Borrow, Blood and Steel
by Teaandchemistry
Summary: We play a dangerous game, in very different ways. But where anything can tip the scale between life and death, which way do we turn? A Foxclove friendship fic.
1. Chapter 1

I never thought I'd venture far into the Hunger Games fandom- while it was a brilliant book, I didn't feel that drawn to its characters. Then the movie came out and, oh boy, did my perspective change. So here it is- my first Hunger Games fanfiction.

I think my writing already speaks for the fact that I am not Suzanne Collins, therefore hold no rights to the franchise. No copyright infringement is intended, but seriously, it's fanfiction. I'm not profiting from this.

This story is Foxclove friendship. As unlikely as it seems, in my mind it makes sense, so please tell me if it doesn't. Reviews are always appreciated.

_**Foxface**_

So far, so good. If good is not dead. Which, in this case, not dead is very good. My mentor was right- avoid the bloodbath, get the essentials and I'll be fine. Despite the fact that there was a source of water nearby and I had adequate food for at least another day, I was shrouded in unease. It chilled me, from my temples through my chest down to my tailbone. I knew I was never safe. Not until the twenty-third cannon sounded would I be safe. _Unless one of those twenty-three happened to be mine._ The thought turned my cold- shower chill into full-on frostbite. It turned my stomach. And once it was set in motion, it didn't stop. The corners of my eyes stung and my mouth went dry. Oh no. Not now. _Toughen up; you survived the reaping and all the Capitol's fanciful traditions without any tears. Now is not the time to break the streak._ I swallowed the waxing sob, forcing it down. It didn't matter how much the Games scrambled my insides, I wouldn't let my anguish run free. That wouldn't get me anywhere but dead.

_**Clove**_

Cato's a jerk. Who the hell does he think he is, telling us to set up a camp while he mills about, whittling a stick with his oversized sword? The bigger weapon doesn't make you the bigger threat (though something tells me he's compensating, but it's not like I would say that out aloud). Honestly, if it would get me anywhere but dead, the entire Career posse would have blood gushing from their throats right about now. They're just all so _irritating. _Marvel's a smarmy derp with no strategy and less brain, Glimmer might be pretty but she's an absolute bitch. I don't know what Cato sees in her, besides blonde hair and curves. Cato doesn't see much, though. I'm the observant one, and he knows that full well. And that Peeta guy- again, what in the hell was Cato thinking? He's too _nice._ Plus he's got a thing for that chick from 12- the one with an 11 on her training score. What's her name again? It had something to do with a cat. She doesn't look it, but she must have been a crazy ass bitch to get an 11. Either way, I don't trust Lover Boy. Cato's too stupid not to, though, so I'm stuck with him. There's also this guy from District 3, but his fate is already sealed. Once we're done with him, he'll be disposed of. Easily. I imagined wringing his neck myself as I tied the last few knots in an intricate trap. Anyone who comes within ten feet of either north or east of camp gets decapitated. Messily.

"Clove, you done yet?"

_You don't have the right to be impatient, Cato, not when you've done absolutely nothing to help._ Probably wasn't the best thing to say aloud, so instead I made a final check of the knots and returned to his side, fingering the long, curved blade hidden in my belt.

_Soon, my pretty._ The corners of my mouth curved up at the promise of blood. Because, believe me, there will be blood. Cato's, Marvel's, Lover Boy's... I'll be the one coming out alive.


	2. Chapter 2

I won't bore you with disclaimers and introductions. You came here to read fanfiction, not all that boring stuff.

_**Foxface**_

I did what I was told. I kept moving. Comfort brings death, and staying in once place for too long can arouse that comfort. I travelled downstream, hoping to find fish or some other animal. Berries and plants are great and all, but I seriously need some form of meat. Something to remind me that I don't have to scrounge around, crawling through the dirt to find some small amount of sustenance. I can make my own kill- just so long as it's not human. I refuse to make a human kill. Just because I'm a part of the Capitol's sadistic Games, that doesn't mean I have to play by their rules. I refuse to give up everything I've been taught, everything I've lived by, for a few days in an arena. If anything, though, this betters my chances. The only tribute that really noticed me was Katniss, the girl from District 12. I ran into her on the first day- literally. For a second, I thought that my cannon would be the next to sound, but she looked just as scared as I was. We both turned tail and sprinted in opposite directions. I had the feeling she wasn't going to come after me any time soon, so for now, I was safe. As safe as one could get in the arena without being dead.

The mud along the river was fresh, with nary a mark in it, besides the wash from the river rising and falling. I kept my eyes on it, searching for marks of any animal life- frog, fish, other, any and all of the above. I did find something.

It wasn't something I wanted to find.

Human tracks.

_**Clove**_

Night was starting to fall. The sun was sinking in the west, leaving a wave of pinks and reds and burnt oranges in its wake. It was one thing about the arena that could seem beautiful. Not the superficial beauty of Glimmer, or even Marvel's narcissistic beauty. This was true splendour. It was rare to see a sunrise or sunset in my district. We were all awake before sunrise, but days are spent in massive metal sheds, crafting weaponry, testing it, and sweltering like the sun itself. It was one thing I could appreciate. The one thing I took comfort in- the dependable rise and fall of the Sun. Nothing in this place was dependable as that.

I heard a twig snap behind me. I turned and pulled the slick blade from my belt. Despite the warmth from the sunset, the biting metal still felt cold and merciless in my hand. I held it outstretched, reaching over my shoulder with my left hand to grab the second knife. There was nothing there. Or, at least, that's what it looked like. Nothing but trees, trees and more trees. The only noise was the sound of the other Career tributes snoring quietly away.

I was desperately curious. And armed. I could make another kill. I could leave the other Careers behind for two minutes. What does it matter to me, whether or not they die? If it's nothing, there's no loss. If it's a lone tribute, that means there's another kill under my loaded belt. If it's a distraction, what do I care? With that, I'm gone. Screw the consequences. This is my game.


	3. Chapter 3

Trying to get into the habit of uploading small chapters regularly. Please don't kill me if I cliffhanger at the end of them- it's a rather indulgent habit of mine. It keeps me motivated to write the next chapter.

If you happen upon this story, please do leave a review. I want to please my (however pitifully sized) audience, and improve my own writing skills. The only way I know how to do that is to respond to feedback from my readers. So please, feedback on pace, feedback on characters, feedback on everything. Know it takes time out of your precious day, but I really do appreciate it.

Again, I'm not Suzanne Collins. But you knew that already.

_**Foxface**_

I was dead. Barely two days into the Games, and I was already dead. Running would be of no use now. The trees offered surprisingly little cover- they were sparse and thin, and no good for climbing. The Careers picked a good spot for their base. I was surprised- most of them looked like idiots. Dangerous idiots, at that. Except the District 2 girl- there was no idiot about her, she was just plain dangerous. She was at least a year or two younger than me, yet she can throw a knife better than anybody I've ever seen. She's the one I'm most afraid of. She's the one who- oh damn.

It's _her._

She knows I'm here. She's looking for me. She's heard me, she's a clear fifteen feet ahead of me and she's just about to spot me.

The girl from District 2.

_**Clove**_

Yet another tribute that's going to die at my hands. I smirked at the thought as I sauntered towards her. She was absolutely defenceless, yet still had the audacity to look me in the eye, defiant. Brave though she was, she didn't move an inch until I was crouched down at her side, one knife in the bark of the tree beside her head and the other resting in my hand tracing her jawline and cheekbones. She eyed the tip with disgust. I figured I could have a little fun before I offed her.

"Well, well, well..." I glanced down at her sleeve. "District Five, huh? No wonder I haven't seen you before." I kept my voice gentle, yet laced the tone with poison. I would enjoy this. No rush. No adrenalin- at least, not yet. That would come after the kill. "Tell me, Five, what did you hope to achieve by keeping out of everyone's noses? Sneaking around, head down, underneath the radar, one might say. Well, it doesn't matter now. Because look where that got you. Your pretty little face is about to be carved up by this pretty little knife."

Still she said nothing, fixing her stone eyes to the ground in front of her. They were a peculiar shade of amber, stoic yet burning. I could make then burn brighter, and then turn them to stone forever. I had absolute power over those eyes, and yet they refused to glance towards mine. It was frustrating. I applied more pressure to the knife, which was now sitting under her left eyebrow.

"Look at me, Five."

Still she kept stone eyes on the ground. More pressure. This time, there was blood.

"I said look, dammit!"

She winced, complying. Then something happened that I wasn't expecting.

The knife fell.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you to those who gave feedback. I hate to be a burden, but I have another favour to ask of my wonderful audience. On my fanfiction profile page I have a poll. This poll is in regards to choosing a proper name for Foxface. I have read fanfiction before where a nameless character has been given a name and it just didn't seem to fit the character or story, so in order to make sure I don't embarrass myself in front of my already limited audience, I have left it up to you. I literally cannot progress the story far beyond where I've written without a name for Foxface.

Right, boring stuff's over, story time!

_**Foxface**_

It was time- time to look death in the eye, accept that I would have to go quietly. So I did. My pained and bloodied eyes met hers, and they stayed there. I watched Death's eyes widen. I watched them flash with memory. Pain. This was new. The vicious District 2 girl, so poised to kill, was feeling... Pain? Why now?

Her knife fell into my lap. Seeing my opportunity, I seized the knife and the girl's torso and turned her around, slamming her into the tree- well and truly clear of the knife embedded in its trunk. I held the other knife loosely under her jaw.

Her nose was literally two inches away from mine. Her hot breath was on my hand, the hand that was attempting to hold onto the knife. This knife could so easily end her, painlessly, too... No. It would be too easy to kill her. Too easy to throw away my strategy, alert the Careers, and then I would be next. I need a better plan. She needs to live.

She was squirming. It was painful to watch. She could so very easily be dead right now, and she knew. She struggled like she was bound in barbed wire. A lone tear escaped her eye.

It was at that point that I made my decision.

_**Clove**_

The glove was on the other hand. I'd blown it. She won. I let myself be vulnerable and she took advantage of it. With one resolute glance, she'd knocked the wind out of me. It was as if she was saying, "Go ahead, kill me. You've killed before. You'll kill again. I won't be any different."

_I won't be any different._

And like that, remorse crept in and my back was against bark. I panicked. I thrashed. I called out.

"Cato! Cato, help!"

Her left hand slammed over my mouth. "Shut up and I'll let you live."

My teeth were bared and ready to bite, but what she said shocked me. Why would she say that? She's as much a player in these games as anyone else, why would she let me live?

"Stop moving, Career, you'll hurt yourself." she released her hand and I stilled.

"I do have a name, you know."

"I know you do. Your name is Clove. You're from District 2."

Whoa. Someone had been paying attention.

"And if you'll kindly let me, I'll explain myself." The girl lifted a sly eyebrow.

"What could you say that's of any interest to me?" I refused to fall to this fox-faced girl's wit.

"I'm making you an offer. An alliance. One away from the rest of the Careers."

"What makes you think I'd be interested in that? Even Lover Boy from 12 would rather stay with Cato and his motley crew."

She smirked. "You resent Cato."

"Of course I do, he's an arrogant pig."

"Then why would you rather submit to him than agree to my proposition?"

She had a point. "He's strong." I rebutted.

"I'm fast." Her counter came even quicker.

"They have supplies."

"Nothing that can't be stolen from them."

I was losing. "We have sponsors!" Okay, even I will admit that was a poor point.

"Come on, Clove. You're smarter than this. Here I am, offering you an opportunity- bear in mind that I'm the one with the knife. Why are you so resistant?"

"Why are you so damn curious?"

That was it. I had her cornered- figuratively, of course. It was as she said- she was still the one holding the knife. Her brow furrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again.

"Exactly, Five. You don't need me, and I don't need you. Why don't you just get this over with already. Spare me the agony, I'm far too tired."

Her hands were shaking. The knife was vibrating against my jugular. Reluctance. I got it now. She didn't want to kill. She was drafted into these Games, just like the rest of us. She wanted to survive, but on her terms. It was almost admirable. Unlike me- I slaughtered without thinking. Bloodlust was my master. I was nothing more than a pawn to the Capitol, yet here I could act like some big shot slayer. It was- oh God.

The knife hit the dirt with a dull thud.

"I can't." her voice broke on the last word. Her eyes glistened and jaw tightened. She released her grip on me. I crawled out from beneath her, turned tail and ran, leaving my precious knives and part of my conscience behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Oh, how I do love my readers. It was incredibly motivating to receive feedback. I am still incredibly happy about the potential of this piece of writing. But maybe that's just me being overconfident.

Shorter chapter today, but not as cliffhanger-y (that's right, it's an adjective now).

As always, reviews make a writer's heart grow fonder. Also votes on the Foxface naming poll on my profile.

This isn't just my work, guys- I write this for you, and this is your opportunity to help me write the best that I can for you guys.

Story time!

_**Foxface**_

I never could take a life, not even when my survival depended on it. But to just let her get away? I was still kicking myself over it. She's a Career. It didn't matter if I had her life in my hands. She knew who I was and where I was. And now the rest of them will, too. I had to move. They'd find me all too quickly if I stayed put. I got up to leave, taking a few steps away from the trees, in the opposite direction to the river. I felt something foreign beneath my feet. It was harder than the Earth should be. I looked down.

Clove's knife. She'd left them. Somehow that seemed unlike Clove, to just leave her own weaponry in the hands of another Tribute. I'd bet she wouldn't even let Cato touch these. I picked up the delicate, yet deadly tool. Its partner was still protruding from the bark of the tree. I pulled it from its living sheath and tucked them both under my jacket, praying that I wouldn't have to use them. I promised myself that I wouldn't pull any crazy stunts like that again. I can keep cool under pressure, but I'm still not a great bluff. _No more games. Stick to your strategy and stay out of trouble. _I pulled my jacket further over the knives. I wondered if Clove would try and find me to retrieve them. Something told me that she would. Then what? I had escaped death at her hands once, but it wasn't likely to happen again. But why was I so set on her coming back for them?

_**Clove**_

"Where were you, shorty?"

Gosh, did I ever hate Cato. "I heard something. I went to check out a lead on another tribute."

"A lead, huh? What lead?"

"One that didn't go anywhere."

Cato looked pissed now, and some small part of me enjoyed that. Oh, who am I kidding, every part of me enjoyed that.

"So you just left the rest of us out in the open, sound asleep, ripe for the killing, huh? Think, shorty! What would've happened to us if we were found? What could've happened to you?"

He didn't even try to coat his voice with concern- it was more of a threat than anything else.

"What does it matter, Cato? We're all still alive. Isn't that the entire point of the exercise anyway?"

I could see the cogs turning in Cato's head. He was seriously contemplating killing me. Not that it would do much for him, except soothe his giant ego. He sighed.

"Just get some sleep, I'm next on watch. We move on at sunrise."


	6. Chapter 6

Another day, another chapter. I'm beginning to wonder just how long this fic is going to go on, and how many plot holes I'm going to have to sew up or evade. Cross-referencing is a fanfic writer's best friend. Also reviews, and poll votes.

Now, is everybody sitting comfortably? Great- I'll begin.

_**Foxface**_

The night brought new fear. Fear of the Careers, of what Clove would do. Fear of the other tributes. Even a chillingly unfamiliar fear of the weapons that lay hidden in my clothing. I barely knew how to use the tools. They had killed before. Was it completely irrational to think that they could end me, too, despite the fact that I wielded them now? It was almost comical- the thought of being bludgeoned and sliced to death by a pair of possessed knives. However unlikely the event was, it still had me on edge. I pulled the blades out and kept my hands firmly on the grips. I had control of them, and that's the way it would stay. I kept them tucked to my forearms as I crept between trees, through scrub and over fallen branches. There were still dangers that a pair of knives could do nothing against in this arena. Earthquake, fire, among other things. A gentle buzz hit my ears. It was almost mechanical. I dared not look to the source, for I already knew what it was.

_Tracker Jackers._

The nest sounded like it was high in the branches of a tree about twenty feet away. Twenty feet was too close. I kept my distance as I moved to the west, upwind and uphill of the deadly wasps. I kept the nest in sight, but far enough away so that they wouldn't come after me if the nest was disturbed. At this distance, I was fairly safe from human and animal threats. The trees here were tall, and I'd wager that I'm a lot better climber than most, if not all of the other tributes. One does develop a certain degree of agility after needing to run from capture after stealing food back in District 5. Our family weren't poor, like those you would expect in other districts, but some families were still impoverished. I was better equipped to keep them alive than they were themselves, so I obliged. On the rare occasion I did get spotted, I was usually up and over a fence or a building before anyone could tell a Peacekeeper. Trees were cakewalk to scale, compared to the sheer surfaces of the District 5 power plants. I was near the top in no time- almost 30 feet above ground. For once in these Games, I felt no fear, only adrenaline. I couldn't fall, but I was so high up. I could see the tip of the Cornucopia, a mile away. This freedom, this energy- this is what confidence feels like. I breathed in the night air, and I realized just how drowsy I was. Ensuring there was no way I could fall, and not knowing what my wake would bring, I settled into a fork in the tree and slept.

_**Clove**_

Despite the fact we were camped in a perfect spot with little to no threat from the other tributes, Cato insisted we temporarily move on. He said it was so we could get another shot at some of the other tributes, but I think it's just so everybody else thinks he knows what he's doing. Regardless, it wasn't working very well. Marvel suggested that we go after the District 12 girl. At this, I noticed Peeta turn pale. I turned to him.

"Well, Lover Boy? You know her best, where would she be?"

He swallowed. "Follow the river upstream." he stammered out.

I smirked. He was doing one of two things. He could be lying, in which case Cato would end him quicker than lightning, or he was telling the truth, forsaking her safety for his life. It was the smart thing to do, but either way, he loses.

Cato nodded. "Upstream it is then." He hoisted his pack over his shoulder and picked up his sword. We all followed suit, however begrudgingly, to the river. _Lover Boy better_ _be right. I haven't seen enough blood yet in these Games. _My bloodlust could only be fulfilled when I was the last one standing- and believe me, I will be the last one standing. Unless foxfaced District 5 gave me that look again. That look that instantly triggered an incessant and disarming guilt. I tried to push that part of me away. _Blood is blood. Better theirs than yours. _I repeated the mantra to myself over and over as I trudged behind Cato.


	7. Chapter 7

I would like to acknowledge Kaitlin Todd for her invaluable help in the construction of this story. A round of applause, if you will. *Claps*

Thanks to the poll on my page, Foxface now has a name. It's still not concrete, so you can still vote if you want. I'm always interested in other people's opinions.

I have no other news, except updates may get a little sparser over the coming days and weeks- I go back to school on Tuesday and I am going to be bogged down with work all term. That and my extracurriculars guarantee me not even a free minute. So, yeah. Sorry about that, for anyone who cares.

On with the show!

_**Foxface**_

My sleep was disturbed by the snapping of branches. I sat bolt upright, looking out to the west. Smoke. Lots of it. There had obviously been some sort of out of control fire. It was settling down now- but what had caused the noise?

I heard footsteps. No, not steps. Someone was running. I slipped out of the ropes and slid to the eastern side of the tree trunk, glancing down. It was the female tribute from District 12._ Katniss._ She was half-running, half-limping towards the south east. Towards the river. I narrowed my focus. There was a fair amount of blood dripping down her right leg. _She must have gotten caught in the fire. _More so out of curiosity than anything else, I gathered my supplies, slipped down the tree and followed her, keeping myself distance and hidden, and every wary of the tracker jacker nest to my east. Katniss slowed down. I crouched behind a thick shrub, pushing aside the branches to get a better look. She was at the river. She jumped in, and a small cloud of red haloed around the wound from her burnt leg. I heard more noises. I crouched further and turned to look behind me, pulling Clove's knives from my jacket. There was nothing. I turned back to the river.

Oh.

That's what the noise was.

The Careers had found Katniss.

The Careers, and the other District 12 tribute.

_**Clove**_

"There she is, there she is!" Cato started running towards the river. I didn't even try to mask my glee. Another one was about to bite the dust. That put me one step closer.

We leaped over the rocks to the cliff before the river. Sure enough, Catface was taking a dip in the stream. She didn't look too crash hot, either. Her face was blotchy with dehydration and the water around her was ginger pink with what could only be blood. _She's injured. At least that will make it easier to kill her._

She looked like a deer in headlights when she spotted us. A mix of fear, revulsion and slight confusion painted her brow and entreated her eyes. She practically leaped out of the water. There was a chase afoot, and I couldn't be more excited to be a part of it. We all waded through the shallower part of the river, each of us sprinting after the District 12 girl. She was fast, we already knew that, but she was significantly slowed down by injury. While she already had a decent head start, we were getting closer by the second. She clawed her way up a tree. I cursed myself for not anticipating that. None of us were very good climbers. By the time we had reached the foot of the tree, she was already crouched near the top. Cato and I both tried climbing, but to no avail. Glimmer shot a feebly aimed arrow from her bow. I could see the girl smirking from behind the trunk. The bow was her discipline, just as knives were mine.

"Why don't you try throwing the sword?"

Well, she was a pain to kill, but at least she had wit. Cato was well and truly royally pissed now. While the prick wanted her dead as much as I do, I still found humour in his frustration. He dropped his pack.

"We stay here until she comes down."

I groaned. If I had my good knives with me I could probably kill her now and save us the trouble. Damn District 5. If I had those knives, 12 would be gone, and 5 would follow. I dropped my pack and sat down on top of it. I wouldn't stray until the Girl on Fire had been extinguished.


	8. Chapter 8

As thanks for all the wonderful feedback, this chapter's a bit longer. I really am very grateful for all the reviews I have received. Nothing motivates a write more than seeing an audience respond to their works.

It's story time again!

_**Foxface**_

I almost thought they saw me. They practically ran straight past me. Every last Career was far too focused on killing Katniss to even consider the other dangers, any consequence, or to see if anyone else was there. _That's not just focus, that's stupidity,_ I thought to myself. Why Clove would rather stick with them is still beyond me. Clove. Her knives. I still held them, and the metal was still cold. The weapons still disgusted and frightened me. I would much rather Clove kept them, not me. The Games seem to take away all of a person's self respect, but I wouldn't let it. For some reason, I thought it best to return the knives to Clove. God only knows why, when she could end so many more lives with the blades. But I really should return them. She spared my life, and in return, I threatened her with her own. I owed her. I would return them, and then I would run. The arena's big; no one would find me, even if they were looking. That's the way I want it. No people, no unnecessary chivalry, no alliances, just me and the arena. I would return the knives, and then my compassion will have finally run dry. I could survive without a conscience. It was just a Game, after all. A game where the loss of life would not be ceased by prevention, only put on hold.

I carefully tailed the tributes. Before now, I hadn't really observed most of them. Cato headed up the pack, and he looked as arrogant as Clove had mentioned. Every step he took exuded pride, bordering on overconfidence. He swung his sword lazily in front of him, showing little respect for the deadly weapon. I never was one for arsenal, but I knew that if you weren't considerate of your tools, it would come back to bite you.

Glimmer reeked of a different sort of confidence, the type of sultry swagger you see in the scantily dressed women of the Capitol. It made me feel sick and self conscious all at the same time. She stuck close to Cato, almost on top of him. And he didn't stop her. That was interesting.

Marvel also tried to keep up with Cato, though I suspect for completely different reasons. He's a male Career, and obviously has issues with not being the Alpha wolf in the pack.

Right behind him, the District 3 boy and the District 12 boy were quietly trading conversation. The District 12 boy, Peeta, wore an eternal look of concern. I would, too, if I was in his position. My district partner died early in the Bloodbath. He was stupid enough to run for the Cornucopia. I was still disheartened to learn that he had died.

Clove brought up the back of the pack, as far away from Cato as possible. She's constantly turning around and checking behind the group, which makes it difficult for me to stay close. It was the smart thing to do. Her intelligence and observation skills impressed me. While other tributes rely on brute strength, skill with weaponry or knowledge and wisdom, Clove takes advantage of all of them, and is ruthless to boot. Out of all the remaining tributes in these games, she's the one who frightens me- and intrigues me- the most.

Up the front, Cato slashed away at the scrub, revealing Katniss, flush against the trunk of a tree, five metres up. I heard the dull, yet familiar buzz. We were back near the tracker jackers. No wonder the terrain looked familiar. The Careers gathered around the tree, taunting Katniss, attempting to hit her or get her down to ground level, but to no avail. Glimmer was pitiful with a bow. Clove had no knives, and this once I thanked the heavens that she had left them with me. The boys couldn't scale the tree, no matter how hard they tried. Cato was getting visibly frustrated. He commanded the other tributes to stay until Katniss came down. I looked back up at the tracker jacker nest. Without even realizing, Cato has just made the Game more dangerous for everyone.

_**Clove**_

I never sleep dreamlessly. I rarely ever have good dreams. Sleep is a time of intimidating vulnerability I would rather live without. This time, it was the red-haired, fox-faced girl from District 5. I was strapped to a tree while she threw my own knives at me, missing by less than an inch, every single time. Still, every time a knife connected with the wood, my head would sear. And to make things worse, she was smiling. She was causing me undeniable, explosive pain without even touching me. The throbbing continued, and buzzing filled my ears. I struggled against the ropes that bound me to the tree and against the drowsiness that bound me to the limbo of unconsciousness. I screamed.

My eyes snapped open. I was alive, unbound. I was safe. The other tributes were still asleep around me. But why was my head still throbbing? And why was I still hearing buzzing?

Something hit me in the back of the head. "Ow!" I hissed. I turned to look behind me. Two amber eyes bore into mine from between the branches of a fern.

Those eyes. My dream. She dropped the pebbles in her hand and pointed up into the trees. Against my better judgement, I looked up.

So that's where the buzzing was coming from. A huge tracker jacker nest. The District 12 girl had a knife and was sawing into the branch holding the nest to the tree. She didn't see me, but she was damn close to sawing clean through the branch. If the nest fell, we were all dead. Not quickly, either- tracker jackers were a painful and grotesque way to die. It was a death I would only wish upon my worst enemy.

I looked back to the fern. Those eyes had disappeared. I took one look at the nest, and didn't even consider alerting the other tributes. I staggered to my feet and sprinted. I had barely gotten three steps when I heard the nest hit the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

*Sigh* I have to go back to school tomorrow. While I will make every effort to update regularly, I can't make any promises.

As always, reviews and critique make me happy. And might be able to restore my usual fervour.

_**Foxface**_

I waited for her. Why did I wait for her? Why did I even wait for her in the first place? Me and my damn compassion. She stumbled out from the bushes and ran headlong into me, knocking both of us to the ground. We shared a glance, both of us saying the same thing without needing to speak- _run._

And run we did. Tracker jackers aren't inclined to stay with one victim- they spread, and quickly. They sense blood. There was a swarm heading our way. Before I could think, I was sprinting. My legs were on fire. Clove was at my heels every step of the way. I didn't expect her to be so fast.

The buzz still droned behind us. We were running into the wind. They were keening on our scent, getting ever closer. I shoved Clove to the left. She got the idea and turned, leaves and dirt kicking up in her wake, with me stumbling right behind her. Adrenalin and terror flooded me, and I knew the only way to hold on to my life was to get out of the road of the deadly wasps. I sped up, dived for a tree branch and hauled myself up. I was safe.

But Clove wasn't.

She couldn't climb.

Without thinking, I threw out a hand. I could see the fear in her eyes too. They were now confused- what happens if she takes my hand? She considered it for only a second. Almost a second too long.

I hauled her up by her clammy palm, her feet barely clearing the bottom branch before the swarm reached the base of the tree. It was enough to throw them off. My pulse was still pounding in my ears. I was still holding Clove's hand in mine. We were both perched on a narrow branch that barely held our weight. Our breathing echoed each other's, heavy and painted with relief. It was only then that I realized I had made a decision, and that decision was broadcast to the entirety of Panem- I had helped a Career. I had saved a Career.

"So, about that alliance thing..." It was out of my mouth before I even recognized I was thinking about it.

Clove turned and looked towards me. What would she say?

"You're on."

_**Clove**_

I would be lying if I said I didn't think about the proposition before accepting. It had been sitting in the back of my mind since our first confrontation, in fact. I could've accepted then and there, quite happily. I still don't quite know why I didn't, despite the fact that everything in me should've been telling me to run back to the rest of the Careers. I mean, it couldn't have turned out too badly. The fox-faced girl from District 5 had already listed her merits, and they seemed competent, even when pitted against the likes of Cato and his brute strength and determination. Stealth wasn't a bad strategy to employ. So why didn't I go for it?

Why was I even putting so much thought process into this? She was just another tribute. Another person whose life I would have to cut short, not for any purpose but the Capitol's sick satisfaction. Yet I still took enjoyment from a kill. It was sickening. I was sickening. Something I wouldn't have considered before it was my life hanging in the balance.

She changed me. The mysterious District 5 tribute had changed me, in the most subtle and, at the same time, the most dramatic way. It was invisible- it left no scars, no stories, no physical pain. It was internal, and the magnitude of my acts finally fell heavy over my shoulders. And though I had denied it, it was really, really heavy. Why her? Because she overpowered me in a moment of weakness? Something told me it was more than that. There was a reason I was up a tree, gripping her hand, rather than fending off waves of hallucination with my district partner and the other Careers.

Something about surviving alongside the District 5 girl made me feel like more than a lamb to the slaughter.

Something that filled me with a hope akin to fire, something that filled the hole my reaping had created that was formerly filled with the intense desire to kill.

I had no plan, no guarantees, not even a next meal.

Still, I had a unique brand of hope.

And in that moment, I valued my life more than ever before.


	10. Chapter 10

I said updates would be sparser during school time, but I am still making every effort to continue. Writing slows down significantly when you're constantly being asked to do math.

Regardless, here is the next chapter. Only Foxface's point of view this time.

_**Foxface**_

It was out in open air before I'd even recognized the thought of it. The acceptance had come just as quickly. Maybe that's just what happens when you narrowly escape death alongside someone else- you immediately just accept what the other person says, in the interest of further preserving your life. In all honesty, it panned out completely differently to how I'd expected. I honestly expected her to be more stubborn- to go off alone, to wake the other Careers, to not accept my hand and keep running. God only knows why she didn't keep running. I haven't given her any reason to trust me. She hasn't given me any reason to trust her. Yet here we were, clinging to each other, each owing the other their life, in a roundabout way. Some things you can't fathom. I was too tired to even try untangling this one.

I didn't notice just how tall Clove was before. From a distance, even from the trunk of the tree the first time we met, she seemed strong, yet lithe. And rather short. Turns out she's only about an inch shy of my full height. In comparison to Cato, Marvel, even Glimmer, she appeared tiny.

A boom hit the air, echoing over our ears. It was startling- somehow we'd huddled closer together. Another tribute had been lost. Clove's eyes met mine again, communicating something we both already knew- a Career had fallen to the tracker jackers. I expected her eyes to contain remorse, but there wasn't a trace. Clearly Clove put a very different value on life to me, although our first encounter might suggest otherwise. That's something I needed cleared up- why did she let me go? Why did I let her go? How were either of us still alive? These Games were beginning to become more than survival. They were beginning to become a wild grasp at your sanity, slippery with the Capitol's tricks, trying to hold onto it while people, people like you, died in increasingly creative and horrid ways.

I tried to climb down the tree, but Clove wouldn't let go of my hand. Her iron grip on my fingers made me chuckle.

"It's okay, Clove. We're safe. I won't let you fall."

Reluctantly, she let go and I eased myself down. I was finding out more of this seemingly unbreakable girl all the time. It just didn't seem to make sense. All that toughness seemed to have dissolved.

Clove shuffled her way around the branch, trying to sense a foothold. Her hands were rapidly searching the bark of the tree for some semblance of grip. She slipped and fell- right on top of me. Ow.

Luckily, the drop was just shy of two and a half metres- only really enough to rattle one's bones, not break them, provided they fell the right way. Considering Clove landed on top of me, it was unlikely she had a break. Still, I felt a bit tender, on my back in the leaves.

"This isn't becoming a regular thing, is it? You landing on top of me."

She blushed a little, climbing off and hauling me to my feet. "Sorry."

As I stood, I felt the metal of the knives clatter around my ribs. I pulled them out and offered them handle-first to Clove, hoping that she trusted me enough not to reacquaint them with that area.

She looked surprised, relieved, and elated all at once. "Thanks." She was sideways glancing me as she said it- a sure sign of suspicion, but she didn't use the knives, merely put them in her belt. I let myself exhale. This was going better than expected.

"Well, what now?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. You tell me."

"Um... Try and put as much distance between us and the rest of the tributes?"

I could see she was considering it. "What do we do about food?"

"I can steal and forage stuff. You can throw knives at stuff. We should be fine."

"Good." She glanced at the sky, squinting. It was mid-afternoon by now. We could cover a good kilometer before dark, provided we were uninterrupted.

Clove pulled her jacket around her. She had nothing in the way of supplies, only her knives.

"North, then?"

Well, we couldn't go south or back west, we'd risk running into tracker jackers, or remaining Careers, both of which were likely to be dangerous and very pissed off.

"North it is." I hoisted my small pack over my shoulders and followed Clove, keeping my eyes squarely on her belt, where the cold metal blades that nearly ended me resided. However easy this alliance was to make, it was delicate. One movement, one false move, and it would dissolve and one of us would die. Most likely me. Because, in retrospect, Clove had every advantage. She didn't need me.

But right now, I needed her.


	11. Chapter 11

Gah. It's late, I have work tomorrow and I have a freaking ton of school work to do. Why am I updating? I haven't even been able to write anything new for a week. Believe me, they give you study halls for a reason. I can't even use them to write.

Please make it worth my while by reviewing?

Just Clove's POV, but this chapter is remarkably long in comparison. Spoilers, you'll also find out Foxface's name. Sorry if it disappoints, but you know what, it's my damn story, I'll name her whatever I want to.

... Sorry if I seem snappy. Enough about my personal life, you came here to read fiction.

_**Clove**_

Night had fallen. The Capitol had done their little evening presentation- turns out it was Glimmer who had died to tracker jackers. This did little to settle my nerves. Cato would be beyond consolable. We had been outsmarted, lost one of our number, and had been forced to split up. And we didn't even make the kill. While now it didn't bother me as much, Cato would be undoubtedly plotting the District 12 girl's downfall while licking his wounds. Despite how annoying he was, I still cared about Cato. As much as I hated to admit to myself, he was my district partner. I felt some degree of attachment, of responsibility for what happened to him.

I picked feebly at my roasted lizard. It was the one thing my shaky throws had managed to hit this afternoon. We had shared it, me and the District 5 girl. The girl, whom I had no idea about, yet accepted an alliance with almost instantly. She had sparked my curiosity. If I was going to be sharing food with and sparing the life of this girl, I had the right to know things- the very first of which would be her name.

"You still with us, Clove?"

My eyes snapped up. Hers seemed to melt in the firelight as they bore into mine, clearly searching for an answer. I told myself to stop staring and answer the damn question.

"Yeah. Fine. Just confused."

"Can I help?" Wow. She wanted to help. Okay.

"It's just- twenty four hours ago, I was with a group of people who had no immediate intention of killing me. Now, I'm with one other person who I don't know the name of, I don't know the intentions of, and I have no freaking clue how I got here. Tell me how that happens."

She was considering everything I said carefully. In the real world, I had no reason to not trust this girl. But this isn't the real world. This is the arena, where everything you say and do will be held against you, where everyone is guilty until proven innocent, where one wrong move will get you dead.

"I can't answer most of your question. I don't know myself. It could be mutual survival instinct. It could be fate. But this I do know- I can't bring myself to kill you. Anyone, actually. And it seems that you can't bring yourself to kill me. Why is that, do you think?"

She was elusive even in speech. What did it matter to her anyway? If I'd paid more attention to the interviews, I would already know her name. "I'm not telling you what I think until you tell me your name." I cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward, smirking, almost in mock threat.

She smiled, too. The straggly bits of hair that had escaped her hair ties fell down over her face, shielding those amber eyes.

"Alright. My name is Lorelei. Lorelei Fletcher."

"Lorelei?" I smirked. "Weird name. And that's coming from me, the girl who was named after a freaking condiment."

"Yeah, well, I agree. It's an old family name- District 5 has a thing for heredity. If you don't get a weird physical trait, you end up with a weird name. I was cursed with both." She says, flicking a limp strand of copper hair out of her face, clearly indicating what she was referring to.

"I like your hair." it was true, I did. There were some times that I wished to myself that my own locks weren't so plain.

"It makes me stick out. It's noticeable. It's the one thing I can't afford to be in these Games."

"You seem to get by okay. As far as I'm aware, none of the others know you're even alive, besides me."

"And Katniss."

Oh. That was her name. "Who, Twelve? What happened there?"

"I kind of crashed into her on the first day of the Games. I was scared out of my wits."

It occurred to me how strangely at ease I felt around Lorelei. I hadn't felt so relaxed since before the reaping. Relaxed enough to be honest with her.

"I would've been too. I mean, according to the Gamemakers, she's a real contender. How do you suppose she got an 11 for her training score? Not even Cato got that."

"How should I know?" She finished off her portion of the charred lizard and stamped out the feebly flickering flames of our camp fire. "We should probably think about getting some rest."

"Okay then, I'll take first watch."

She shook her head. "You're clearly a heap more exhausted than I am, Clove, I'll take watch."

I felt I should protest. Who knows what could happen in my hours of unconsciousness? My first instinct was to protect my own life at any and all costs. But Lorelei was set on first watch. She didn't have to say a word to tell me that she wasn't going to take advantage of my weariness to put herself a step closer to victory. She trusted me- why couldn't I return that trust, at least until one of us was killed by external forces?

"Fine. You get first watch. Goodnight, Lorelei."

She winced slightly. "Only my mother calls me that. Would you mind using another name?"

"Like what? We're hardly on chummy terms, I mean, this is a fight to the death, only one person comes out."

Oh dear. That was certainly not the right thing to say. Not to someone whom I'd just formed an alliance with, a promise that we would carry each other as far as we possibly could. Normally, I wouldn't care. So why did I feel so remorseful? I was doing everything wrong here. She was trying to be friendly, and I was trying to be evasive. However truthful my statement was, it clearly impacted Lorelei.

"Back in my District, people called me Fletch. Short for Fletcher. My dad was given the same name." She smiled slightly. "But my stylist and mentor insisted on calling me Fox. For the hair."

"It suits you- Fox, I mean. No other creature would be so clever as you."

At the compliment, she lifted those amber eyes to meet mine. They had the same disarming effect as when I'd first seen them. They looked all too familiar. Like they were pleading for me to realize something that was just out of my reach.

"Goodnight, Clove."

I yawned, realizing just how tired I really was. I had barely slept since the start of the Games.

"Goodnight, Fox. Don't get yourself killed."

There I went again, bringing up mortality in what was meant to be pleasantries. Still, she laughed a little.

"I'll be sure to avoid that particular fate."


	12. Chapter 12

I won't say I didn't warn you. I have barely had any time to write and review over the past two months, but I can't say I've lost my passion for this particular piece. So I have decided to be an idiot and start writing again... _the week before exam block starts._ Yeah, I should be studying, but whatever. Updates may become more regular after another couple of weeks, if anyone's still reading this by then.

For now, it's time to get back to the Arena.

_**Foxface**_

We slept in 2 hour shifts, though the sleeping part felt like mere seconds. Awake was harder. Staying alert meant staying alive. Anything less than a hundred percent focus on the watch meant we were at the mercy of the elements- and, of course, the other tributes. While Clove slept, I busied myself with strategy. We were lucky enough to be on high ground near a water source, but the Gamemakers could easily take that away. We had no food. Starvation would soon become an issue. The landscape, though thick with vegetation, was disappointingly sparse, in terms of edible plants. I won't pretend to be an expert- there's barely enough greenery in District 5 to keep us breathing- but to my knowledge, everything in the general area was either poisonous or distinctly lacking in any sort of nutrition. No one wants to eat dead leaves, or tree bark. Sponsors, like the other tributes in the arena, paid little attention to me. Currently, our only food source was anything that Clove could stick with a knife. That meant I was reliant on Clove for my survival. Though our alliance still stood, that wasn't fair on her. I needed to pull my weight, if we were both to survive.

I sensed sudden movement to my right side. I reacted quickly, throwing my hands to the dirt and readying myself to run. Looking up, I saw nothing. Nothing but Clove sitting bolt upright, gasping and clearly scared. I relaxed and crawled over to her side.

"Clove?" I stretched out my hand to touch her arm, in a small gesture of comfort, but she recoiled from me. Her blue-green eyes pulled up to mine, widened and pupils dilated.

"Clove, it's okay. You're safe." I shuffled closer and put my arm around her. She relaxed her shoulders, but her breathing remained heavy and her pupils didn't return to normal. What could have scared her so much? Clove, the District 2 girl who would kill at the drop of a hat to come out of this arena alive?

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?"

"Nothing." She breathed out, readjusting her shoulder against mine. "Just a stupid nightmare."

I doubted it was just a nightmare. Still, I didn't say anything. Clove was a glass cannon- I didn't want to set her off, that wouldn't do either of us any good.

"You should go back to sleep, get in a couple more minutes before the sun comes up."

"No, I'm fine. Couldn't sleep if I tried." she replied. To be honest, I don't think I could either. My thoughts were too rapid and all-consuming to be slowed down for respite.

_**Clove**_

"I was thinking- what do we do for food for the next couple days?"

Now that's something I hadn't really considered that much. "I stab lizards, won't that do?" I nestled further into Fox's side. What? She was comfy, and obviously didn't mind.

"I don't think we'll be able to live off impaled lizard, Clove."

"I can impale other things." Well, I could. Lots of things could be skewered, cooked and eaten. She laughed softly.

"Yes, but I can't. And that's a problem."

"How is that a problem? I don't mind sharing." It was true, I honestly didn't. Which is weird- I was very territorial about what I ate when I was with the Careers. Marvel almost earned a knife through his palm when he tried to take some food off me.

"Well, what if we get split up, what happens then?"

I lifted my head to reply, but resigned back to Fox's shoulder, realizing I had come up blank. "... Good point."

"I thought so. There's gotta be some other food source. How else are the other tributes staying alive?"

Other tributes. Careers. The stockpile, of course! "Fox, you're a genius!" I said as I stood, offering her a hand up.

"I am?" She said as I hauled her to her feet.

"Cato and the others have a big pile of supplies near the Cornucopia. There's enough food there to last for weeks."

"Well, that's great. I could steal some of that. How do I get to it?"

"That's the problem. You know the boy from District 3?" She nodded. "Cato let him hang with the rest of the Careers in exchange for protection."

"How would a District 3 boy have any way of protecting Cato? His District specializes in technology."

"Exactly. He dug up and reactivated the mines around the starting pedestals. They're all buried around the stockpile."

"Then how do we get to the food? One false move and what's left of you wouldn't fit in a bucket."

That was an amusing mental image. I smirked. "Cato and Marvel are still in one piece. There's a path through the mines."

"How do we figure that out though? I am not taking any chances, no matter how hungry I get."

"As far as I remember, they were laid out in some pattern. It wasn't just random. Before he buried them again, I saw District 3 scratching out plans in the dirt- spirals and symbols and stuff... Hey, Fox, are you still with us?"


	13. Chapter 13

Finally, the semester is over. After much stressing and studying and leaving school halfway through the day after exams, I have a well-deserved three week break. Why am I telling you this? Well, it means more updates. I assume that if you are reading this, that makes you at least a little bit happy.

Word of advice- don't do chemistry, it will hurt your head. Unless you're really good at it.

Okay, enough about me and my problems, time for reading.

_**Foxface**_

Spirals... Numbers... Could it be?

"Did he mention some sort of sequence, Clove?"

She shook her head. "He doesn't speak much. The only thing I heard come out of his mouth was some random mutterings about pine cones."

Spirals and pine cones, of course! "That makes perfect sense!"

Clove lifted an eyebrow. "That doesn't make any sense. Fox, are you feeling alright?"

"Brilliant. Clove, do you know much about math?"

"Not far beyond knife plus living thingy equals dead thingy."

"Then you will have no idea what I'm talking about, so I'll spare you the confusion. Which way is the Career camp?"

"South of here. Why?"

Without another word, I picked up my pack and marched off into the scrub.

"What... Fox, wait up!"

_**Clove**_

She was crazy. I was allied with a crazy girl who was about to march to her death, based on... what, mathematics? I was never one for the intellectual stuff, no matter how much potential I apparently show for it. Regardless of how much sense it made to Fox, she was walking deliberately into danger. I don't doubt her intelligence, but she underestimates how powerful the Careers when be, once they all join forces. Even if she hid, she wouldn't last long, not with all of them still there. Still, I had partial responsibility over her life, what was I going to do but run after her?

"Fox, wait up!"

I caught up with her, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around. "You're insane if you think you're going to be able to pull this off without getting killed. There are tributes, snares, trap, mines and open space to worry about."

"I'm not gonna do anything stupid, Clove. I'm not exactly gonna waltz out there and say, "Hey guys, don't mind me, I'm just gonna sneak past your mines and steal your food now, don't bother getting up to kill me", now, am I?" She huffed slightly as she spoke, clearly frustrated.

I sighed. "Just don't run off without me, okay? You owe me that much."

Fox rolled her eyes. "Yes, _mom_. Come on, you gotta make sure I don't die."

"It's amazing how long you survived on your own, with all the running off you do." I retorted.

The kilometre's walk to the Career camp was spent in this almost foolish banter. It was almost like we weren't in the Games at all, but somewhere genuinely peaceful. I was fully aware of this, but for some reason, part of me didn't care. If I was going to die, I may as well have some serenity before I go. Because, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, the odds were most definitely not in my favour.

The other side of me snapped back internally. Was I admitting defeat already? No, I wouldn't die. I would outlast everyone else, and make my last kill easily. My last kill- of course it would be Fox. But how easy would it really be to kill her?

I looked to her, noticing she had gone silent and stony too. She knew. She understood, without me saying. And that was that. I pushed the thoughts sideways. We had a job to do. I silently hoped there would be no blood, without really knowing why.


	14. Chapter 14

Guh. Too tired to preface this one. Oh well, it's not like you came here to listen to my personal life anyways.

Below is thine ficton, forsooth, I implore thee to peruse it at thine will.

_**Foxface**_

We crouched in the scrub, eyes trained on Cato and the other tributes at the camp. It was even more cleverly positioned than I had first thought. We wouldn't get ten yards clear of the scrub before we had signed our own death certificate.

"It's out in the open, we go to take something and they'll see us." Clove whispered, her voice low and laced with tension.

"What we need is a distraction. What will get them to leave?"

"A kill." Clove replied almost too quickly. I had forgotten that, had the past few days' events not transpired as they did, she would still be among them. Still, her eyes betrayed her. She was still unsure.

"It's hardly a good idea to just throw someone into the fray as a distraction. It'll just end up with another dead body."

"These guys are desperate. They'll be set off if they think they hear so much as a cough. We need a decoy. Something like... Like..."

"Like that?" I pointed to a column of smoke towering above the forest canopy. What idiot would have lit that? Unless...

I slipped out from between the scrub and readied myself to run. I was stopped by a hand on my arm. I looked back to Clove. "What?" I hissed.

"Look." She pointed to the camp. While Cato was readying his sword and Marvel already had a spear over his shoulder, running towards the tower of smoke, there was still one left at the camp. The boy from District 3, armed only with a lone spear, was enough to scare me into submission.

"For someone so smart, he's not that attentive... Do you want me to knife him?" Clove was hesitant in finishing her thoughts.

I shook my head. "No. If we do, they'll know we were here. Can't you just distract him?"

At this, she picked up a stone and lobbed it into the woods adjacent to the camp. The stone cracked a branch as it connected. It was far enough away to lead the boy's attention away from us, but close enough to be threatening to him. Clove shoved me out of the bushes.

"Go! You've got a minute, tops." Thanks for the warning, Clove. I darted towards the stockpile, taking only a moment to analyse my surroundings and to picture the deadly spirals of mines buried only a few metres in front of me. District 3 obviously knew what he was doing. The mines would be arranged in such a pattern that if one went off, all of the rest would too. Navigating them would have been a disaster, if the pattern wasn't so apparent. Steadying myself, I leapt over the first row, almost over balancing. My head was throbbing in a battle of intense fear and the overwhelming desire for concentration. My brow furrowed as the spirals of mines made pictures behind my eyes. Left. Up, and left. Only a bit, don't overshoot. Jump. Land. There we go. One more step. Leap. Slam into pyramid of stuff. Ow. At least it wasn't a mine. I slipped a bushel of apples loose from the handle of a crate and took a silver can out of a box next to it. Now I had only to sneak my way back without attracting the attention of the District 3 boy or, more accurately, attracting the point of his spear.

Another set of clever jumps and a last desperate tumble into the bushes, and we were at safe distance. District 3 was still scoping out the bushes, spear gripped tight and held in two hands. I slunk further into the scrub, waiting. Waiting for an idea of what to do next. Watching the boy from District 3. Away from the camp, he was without security. In unknown territory, anything could happen to him. The gamemakers could drop a tracker jacker nest on him. They could set any vile mutt on him. Or me. We were both surviving, but that wouldn't last. The lull in activity was probably boring the Capitol to death. I felt the pressure to do something, to kill or be killed. Something I would have never considered before entering the arena. I prayed for Clove to stir next to me, to pick up her knives and make the boy's death look like a tragic accident. To give us a few more hours to breathe. People get killed all the time in this infernal game, and it makes no difference, so long as I'm not involved. So I waited. And still, Clove did not stir.


	15. Chapter 15

I have a few things to address before I start.

Firstly, Queensland won State of Origin last night (not that it matters to a lot of you, being, well, not Australian). For those who are curious- Google it, I'm too lazy to explain.

Secondly, to the Americans, happy Independence Day! Today you celebrate emancipation from tea, scones and a monarchy with corgis. Congratulations!

Finally, thank you to all those who have supported this story. I can only now ask one small favour- is there anyone willing or bored enough to do a cover image for this story? If so, PM me.

Alright, enough jibber jabber. Let's go!

_**Clove**_

Watching Fox lift the supplies was like watching a dance. No matter how technical it may have been, there was something graceful about it, a grace I had only seen watching a knife find its home after tumbling through the air. It was more subtle, though, like realising someone had snuck up behind me and stripped the shirt off my back without me knowing. Likewise, it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't help but admire the sheer guts of this girl- how she shamelessly and easily took something away without anyone noticing, or even really caring. Her dance with death, many deaths, was beyond entrancing. I wished that I could do that. Then maybe I wouldn't need the knives. I pondered how nice it would be to not leave a bloody trail of destruction, to win by quiet default. I hadn't felt the sweet sting of a tribute death in days, but I did not lust for it as I once did. I just wanted to go home and retire.

Fox tumbled back into the bushes, dumping the supplies at her feet and taking a few moments to catch her breath. The District 3 boy was still fumbling around in the trees adjacent to us. I shrunk back with Fox and waited, making myself as invisible as I could. I looked to Fox, only to find she was already boring her eyes into mine expectantly.

"What?" I hissed.

"I changed my mind. Go finish him off. Make it messy."

My stomach did a tumble turn then dropped like lead. "Wha- no! Didn't you just say it would be too obvious?"

"The Gamemakers are no doubt getting bored by now; there hasn't been a death in ages. They just want a show and right now, their next big play is either him or us. And I'd like to keep my head _on _my shoulders. I'm sure you want the same."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The sneaky and passive girl I had fallen into an alliance with was now demanding death be brought upon her opponent. And I was torn on whether to agree or not. The fire that once burned with an insatiable fervour within me was merely a feeble flicker, not even strong enough to light a metaphorical match. But a fire had taken up residence in the fox-faced girl beside me, a product of the desperate desire for survival. It was every bit as real, more so even, than the killer in me. It was organic as the seed that falls in the dirt, fertilized by fear. It was understandable only in its obscurity.

There was a crash, a bang, and an explosion of force and heat. It knocked us back with its sheer magnitude, despite our distance from the source. We looked back to the camp to find the pyramid of supplies decimated to a layer of smoking rubble. District 3 and the careers were drawn to the noise and the smoke. Cato and Marvel looked furious. Marvel stood back with his face held in haughty disgust while Cato steeped forward and snapped the District 3 boy's neck. He fell to the smoking earth, lifeless. A cannon sounded, a hollow boom and an empty thud against the stagnant air.

I felt Fox grow still next to me. Even her breathing stopped for a second. It occurred to me that she had probably never seen a death before. It changes you, to see mortality from the other side of the glass. I gently pulled her hand from its death grip on her shirt, easing my fingers in between hers.

"It's okay. They won't hurt you."

I only realized how stupid that sounded after I had said it, and I had sounded too sure to back down. Still, Fox took comfort in the words and the gesture.

"We should probably leave."

"Yeah, you're absolutely right."

Without another word, we slipped away into the woods, fingers still entwined and shaking.


	16. Chapter 16

I really enjoyed writing this chapter- I hope you get as much enjoyment out of reading it.

_**Foxface**_

We had settled into the broad fork of a tree for the night. Our hands had barely separated since the sixteenth cannonball had broken free, since another life had been ended. The intimate gesture certainly surprised me, but I had taken comfort in the softer side of Clove.

"What do you think happened?" Her hushed, slightly husky tone broke the night air.

"What do you mean?"

"Piles of crates don't normally spontaneously explode."

"I hadn't really considered that. It was all moving too fast. I was too focused on not falling on top of a mine."

"Maybe that's what set it off- a glitchy mine."

"I don't think so. At least, not a glitchy one- the Capitol might be keen on death for sport, but they wouldn't be so careless. If it was a mine, something set it off."

"I suppose- but I saw something a bit weird. There was an arrow, just one arrow, lying on the ground. It wasn't there before the explosion, and it wouldn't have travelled so far, even if it was blown out from the pile."

I lifted my head to look her in the eyes. "... Katniss?"

Clove's eyes widened. "Do you think she saw us? Was she _aiming _for us?"

"No, I don't think that's likely. Katniss isn't that careless, and if she was going to kill us, she would have come from behind. I don't think she would go looking for kills, either. I think she tried- and succeeded- to set off a mine with her arrow."

"She lost us a food source."

"She lost everyone a food source, Clove. It's more or less fair game now."

Clove squeezed my hand a little tighter, pulling it into her side. "I don't want to starve, Fox."

"And we won't. What happened to the girl who had me pinned against a tree a few days ago?"

"I had Cato then. I had food, security... Why did I start an alliance with you again?"

"... No idea." It was true, I would always get the lion's share out of our agreement. There was no way I would survive without Clove, however I'm not sure I could say the same if the roles reversed. "Death changes people, I suppose."

"Tell me about it." She finally let go of my hand and sat up against the tree, facing me. She let out a sigh.

"I have seen death my entire life. As far as everyone was concerned, dying was a part of living. Peacekeepers executed people in the streets. When fights broke out, they would usually end with a death. Death was a method of keeping the peace. It was normal.

"One day, during the summer, I was taking my sister to the training hall, just to show her what she would be facing in another couple of years. All the time we were out, she was quiet, reserved- apprehensive, even- little Sage was always sheltered by my mother. She didn't make a sound until we were walking back home.

"The peacekeepers had an old man on his knees out on the street. There weren't many people around- usually everyone's inside by dusk. They were whipping the man, reminding him of his, and I quote, "indiscretions towards the Capitol". They kept whipping and he kept crying, until finally the head Peacekeeper got bored of the affair. He put his gun to the man's temple and- right in the street- just blew his brains out.

"Sage saw the entire thing. She froze, just the same as you did. I couldn't think of what to do, so I just took her hand and led her home. She wouldn't let go of my hand until she drifted off to sleep late that night.

"You remind me of her, you know- you're just as pure as she was."

"Pure? Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, right to the end, you're holding onto yourself, your identity. Cato and I were forced to give ourselves up to the Games as soon as we entered training, years ago. We barely got a childhood."

I hadn't really considered the fact that Clove had a family, a life outside of this hell. I was overwhelmed with the new, yet obvious, information. A sorrow consumed me, and I pulled Clove back into my side.

"Don't move." I told her, and she didn't. As wrong as it felt to be so close to someone who was meant to be trying to kill me, the comfort that came from it made me forget.

"I don't think I could kill you, Fox."

I smiled. "If it means anything, hurting you would be an impossibility."


	17. Chapter 17

I'm not gonna lie, I'm just a little bit happy right now, because this story has received over 50 reviews and nearly 4000 hits. Just a little bit stoked at that.

This chapter takes a bit of a departure from the style of the others- it's an interior monologue, for the most part. Little bit different, but hopefully not too scary.

Also, I wanted to ask a question- what do you think of the idea of a companion piece to this story? I was thinking of doing a oneshot of the Capitol's reception to the happenings within the Games. Not only would it give a sense of completeness to the universe within this story, but it would also provide a bit of separation from the characters. Let me know if I should start penning this tangential storyline or not.

As always, reviews are immensely appreciated.

Story time, guys!

_**Clove**_

_Hurting you would be an impossibility._ That was a promise that no one had ever made to me. My own parents made it very clear to me from a young age that they could offer me no protection once I was old enough for the Games. The best protection I had was myself, and for the longest time, that was fine. But I _had_ been hurt. I had been ripped to shreds. I was replaced by a soulless killing machine. I was lost. The endeavour taken to protect me had destroyed me, before any such threat reared its ugly and expected head.

This comfort I was presented with now, this intimacy... I needed it. And I took it from someone that should, for all intents and purposes, be dead- at my hands, no less. Yet she wasn't, and I didn't mind. I had let her live. No... I _wanted _her to live. Our covenant had been finally put into words, and at least in my mind, nothing could break it. It kept me safe, but it scared me, the way it had changed me. And in that instant I realised... I didn't know who I was anymore. In my salvation, my identity had been stripped. People talk about not wanting to become nothing more than a part of the Games, but as long as I could remember, the Games were a part of me. In the same way that she had stolen supplies without anyone knowing, Fox had taken a part of me away. She stripped me with not a knife or a spear or an arrow, but with nothing more than charm, and... morality.

I was conflicted. The thoughts were coming to fruition inside my head, furiously fighting one another. I should be angry, incandescent even, that this girl had managed to render me harmless as a kitten. Or should I be grateful for her companionship and loyalty, and just leave it at that? It was deeper than that, but oh so difficult to put into words, or even coherent thoughts. What was this ache I felt, where was it sourced? Anguish at the past, or a doubt of the future? It was so different, a slow crescendo starting from the moment I was pinned against that tree, staring into crystal eyes through fiery hair. Now all the thoughts were climaxing, getting louder and louder, slamming around inside my skull. I had to let them out, or I would explode.

I loosened myself from Fox's still, tired arms, caring not if she woke, drawing a blade from my belt. I tensed all over, shivering in contrast to the heated throbbing in my head. I lifted the blade again, watching as it shone in the moonlight, the sharp tip glinting at me. It was so powerful, but that had never scared me when I held it. The knife, my saviour and simultaneous slayer, was calling to me in a way the cold metal never had before. I brought the blade down, into the bark of the tree. I leaped down, drew another, and fired it straight into a branch twenty feet away. My hands were empty now. They felt colder, even without the eternally chilly metal. Good. Things were getting far too hot for me. I stripped off my jacket and felt the sting of night bring my arms to shivers and goosebumps. I screamed into my elbow, biting at my bare flesh. It drew blood. I let the tension free, collapsing to my knees.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Immediately I flinched away from the touch, diving towards the tree and pulling out the knife.

"Clove, stop freaking out. It's just me."

Oh. Fox was awake. She held her arm out in an effort to calm my movements. I was at a loss for what to do. The battle in my head was over for now, but a war was still being waged. Fox was stepping closer. She picked up my jacket and brought her hand to my wrist, lowering it. The knife dropped. She threw the jacket around my shoulders and pulled me into her chest. The tension in my muscles disappeared with the fire in my head, and for that moment, I forgot. I crashed hard, not caring for the consequences, the implications, the complications.

"What happened, Clove?" Her voice was gentle, like she was speaking to a child that just woke from a nightmare, but she managed to not be at all condescending.

"I... I don't know." I whispered. "Just going insane, I suppose."

"Look at me." She brought her hands to my cheeks, lifting my head. "We're gonna get you out of here alive."

"No. No, don't say that." I grasped at her wrist, staring her straight in the eyes.

"Clove, I'm dead anyway-"

"No! No, you are not!" Hysteria was building in my voice, rapidly approaching fever pitch.

"Shhh." She brought a finger to my lips, and I collapsed all over again, because no matter how hard I tried, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place with no way out. It was literally life or death, but I had died either way.


	18. Chapter 18

Don't forget to check out Lulubird's Foxface/Clove story, _A Surprising Alliance _( s/8249841/1/). It's fantastic, but bring Kleenex.

Also, I have written a companion piece to this story, entitled _Behind The Silver Desk _( s/8304509/1/Behind_the_Silver_Desk). It fills in a few of the blanks regarding how the Capitol is reacting to the Games. Please do check it out.

As always, read, review, and enjoy!

_**Foxface**_

Making my mind up about the matter was remarkably easy. I had lasted longer than I should have with Clove- choosing my own way out means I still have control. Besides, what did I have to go back to anyway? My family were better off without me. Winning would only make them a target. Clove had everything invested in these Games; I had to make her win. I hadn't expected Clove's reaction to the news to be so bitter.

Truth be told, I know that logic wasn't my only persuasion to reach this decision. I deeply cared for Clove, the girl no one knew. The girl who shared not just her survival, but her life. Judging by her previous behaviour, she hadn't let this side of herself show in a very long time. All the same, I knew that the Games- that I- was splitting her down the middle. She had no guarantees anymore, and promises brought not comfort but confusion. This left me with nothing but to just hold her. Proximity had become commonplace between us, not only as a way of keeping warm, but for emotional comfort. The fact that our association had extended beyond alliances in the Games was- well, it was practically forbidden; we weren't from the same district, so alliance itself was already sketchy, but in an environment where our primary objective was to kill each other, we had befriended each other. That had to be setting off alarm bells. For some reason, the Capitol didn't appear to want our heads on platters, God knows why not.

I held my thoughts, and Clove, steady until morning. We were silent and still for hours, yet we did not sleep. Clove lifted her head from my shoulder, eyes empty- whether that was natural or forced, I don't know.

"We need a plan." Her tone was hushed, delicate- as if she was trying not to push it too far, for fear of it breaking.

"You need to sleep." I poked the bags under Clove's eyes. She swatted my hands away and cracked a small smile.

"Fine then, what are you going to do?"

"I was thinking of going back to the explosion site; see if I can salvage anything."

Clove was clearly too tired to argue. I suppose an emotional breakdown would really take it out of you. I glanced up at the tree we were in last night. The knife was still almost up to the hilt in the bark. I walked over to it, hauled myself into the branches and yanked it out, almost falling out of the tree in the process. This earned me a yawny giggle from Clove.

"Mind if I take one of these? Just in case, for when I'm gone."

"Yeah, go for it."

I slipped it into my belt, fastening my jacket around it. "Thanks."

I watched as Clove crept into the underbrush, gathering leaves around herself and dragging her jacket behind her. I let myself smile a little before leaping off into the scrub.

_**Clove**_

I woke from my sleep, groggy, but unharmed. My head had stopped throbbing, and I realised that I had slept dreamlessly for the first time since... well, I couldn't remember a time where I slept so well. The sky was a reddish hue- I had slept for most of the day.

Foxface was kindling a small fire and holding a groosling in her bloodied hand. I crawled out from the brush, only realising how hungry I was at the smell of the raw, greasy flesh.

"Where did you get that?" I pointed to the dead bird.

"I killed it." Fox replied matter-of-factly.

"But... but... how?"

She shrugged. "I got lucky. Lucky I had your knife and lucky that this bird was stupid enough to look at me funny. Lucky it had a funky leg, too, so it wasn't going anywhere fast."

I looked at the bird again. It had blood all over it, dripping from the middle of what appeared to be a long, jagged laceration. Oh, Fox. So smart, but still such a novice.

"Word of advice- slitting its throat is usually a lot less messy."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up, knife girl. Can you gut this thing while I go look for some roots?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but I was rudely interrupted by the anthem and the Capitol seal in the sky. Two had died today- the girl from District 11, and Marvel. I actually felt some small amount of remorse- out of the other Careers, Marvel was probably the most likeable. He had moments of startling honesty, which was something I respected. I stopped for a moment to let the numbness of death wash over me, grateful that it wasn't mine.

We were interrupted again when our meagre feast of bird and roots was gone. Claudius Templesmith's tinny voice filled the Arena.

_There has been a revision of the rules. Two tributes may win if they come from the same District._

I looked to Fox. She was already looking at me. She drew the knife from her belt and threw it over the dying embers of the fire towards me. It landed in the dirt with the handle pointed towards my feet.

"Go. Find Cato."


	19. Chapter 19

Uh, guys? Just so you know... my username... it isn't a joke... suggestions are welcome.

This chapter is one that I kind of love, purely because I love talking through my characters. I'm not just presenting a story here- I'm baring a little bit of me. I don't care if that's bad practice for an author, you're getting it anyway.

I hope you enjoy this. And review it. Yeah, reviews are nice.

_**Foxface**_

Of course I wanted her to survive, but that didn't mean I wanted her to leave. It looks like the Capitol wasn't giving me much of a choice. As far as I was aware, there were only six of us left, with two district pairs left. If Clove and Cato didn't win, the combined strength of Katniss and Peeta would. Whichever way it went, I would die- it would be wrong of me not to let Clove have one more chance of surviving. It was foolish of me to offer her solace in the first place, when it ultimately wouldn't win her any prizes. Regardless of the events that had transpired, I was still at war with myself- wanting her to leave, to live, but at the same time, praying she stayed with me.

What else could she do but take the knife and run? Without another word, she was gone, taking a part of me with her. The stillness was stifling. It stirred something within me; something that I had promised myself wouldn't appear. Right from the start I had kept that promise, but now seemed as apt a time as ever to break it.

I let the tears fall.

They say you don't know what you have until it leaves you. I don't think that's true- I knew all along. I knew that the bond we had was delicate, easily shattered, and the shards would stick in you forever, melting and mixing with blood, if you were careless enough to touch it.

So why did I wallow in it?

I guess you could say that it was the human thing to do. To acknowledge such a loss, one would usually mourn.

But really, what had I lost? If anything, I was safer alone. It became all too easy to forget that this was a game of death, where there are no good guys. Only enemies.

It certainly didn't feel that way, though.

I can't really put into words why I felt so drawn to Clove, despite my hefty vocabulary. Even language, the only thing I really knew, could not suffice to let me breathe. I was suffocating in confusion, because of someone who should have killed me already. I would rather have died to her spiteful knife than been asphyxiated by my own confusion.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe I was so focused on trying to rationalise this that I was missing something. The tactical side of me is at ease, yet I am still weeping. Of course, I am overlooking my emotions. But who wants to admit to themselves that their heart is commandeering their head? It's a dangerous observation to make. But perhaps it's even more dangerous to ignore it.

There was only one solution, one way out of this mess I'd made for myself. I had to let it go. The alliance, the _friendship,_ never existed.

It was the only way I could possibly let myself carry on.

God, why was this so damn hard?

_**Clove**_

It wasn't hard to find Cato- he had no reason to hide, so it made sense that he would stay close to the Cornucopia. The last thing he needed was to lose a landmark. My knives were drawn as I ran. If there was any chance of running into 12 or the guy from 11, it would've gotten me one step closer. Not that I was thinking about it, in hindsight. I was trying to think objectively. Find Cato. Convince him that I was an asset, not a liability. Avoid death at all costs.

There was a hand at my throat. I was slammed on my back against a tree, a good foot above the ground, held in place by a strong arm. I squinted in pain. The blades in my hand fell to the dirt.

"What the hell, Clove?" Oh thank heavens. It was Cato. Who, for some reason, wasn't letting me go.

"You heard the announcement, right?"

He scoffed. "I don't need you, Clove. You know I don't make attachments."

"What about Glimmer?"

"Do you think I'm stupid? I have my honour, but I'd be an idiot not to dig for sympathy. What about you, huh? Where the hell have you been?"

Plotting against you. Screwing you over while I cosied up to a chick from another district. "Does it matter, Cato? I'm back, I'm alive, and I can help."

"For the last time, I don't need you." He pressed against my jugular tighter with every word, reaching over his should for his sword.

I was struggling for air. I only had about twenty seconds to make my final argument. "Do you think it's honourable to go home to your district, alone, knowing you could have come home with another? You wouldn't be welcomed, Cato; you'd be treated like a coward."

That did it. His eyes softened with thought as he released me. I collapsed, gasping for air. I gathered my knives.

"You're not alive because I like you, Clove. You're alive because I let you."

Yeah, sure. So good of dear Cato to let me live. I was beginning to remember his arrogance, and I wondered why I even sought him out in the first place.

Of course, the answer was obvious. I valued my life.

Or what was left of it, anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

Guess who's back with a bang, bitches!

...

Okay, I guess that last bit wasn't entirely necessary.

But yes, I return from a term-long hiatus with a long chapter. Foxface's POV.

Please review, if you're still reading this. Because if you are- damn, it's good to be back.

_**Foxface**_

I forgot what it felt like to be alone. To only be able to depend on yourself. Already, I felt the loss of Clove. All the things I had run over and over in my head- all the survival techniques, all the ways and means I may escape this bizarre circle of hell, they all began to disappear. Desperate for a moment to myself and the sunset, I climbed a tree. I perched myself atop the branches and I thought. I contemplated. I postulated. I remembered.

It was like I was back in District 5. I was sitting on the roof of a building, my feet dangling over the edges of the corrugated iron. I preferred the slums of District 5 to the industrial and commercial areas. They had more character. Everyone you saw had a story, a struggle. The people there did not scorn me for encroaching on their living area, despite my evident middle class status. If anything, they were welcoming. Either that or they left you to your own devices.

My best memories of home were all on the same rooftop in the same slums of District 5. A collection of fruit smuggled from the pantry or the market and a book smuggled from the box in the basement, the box I was never meant to touch, the box which contained far too much for my young eyes and mind. All the same, those evenings alone on the roof were the best I ever had, learning the history of disaster, the tragedy of romance, the irrationality in rationalising. I stayed on that rooftop, reading until the sun was beneath the distant hills and the stars were out, when my eyes squinted for illumination enough to read the page. I unfolded the past of Panem, I saw deep into the dark that the Capitol had cast us under. I saw the pain, the intricacy, the danger of being alive. These books were all my family had left. The traditions and the names and the physical things, they were all external, visible. The families of District 5 had invisible heirlooms, too. There were secrets hidden in the vellum and leather, the delicate pages I held in my hand were part of what ensured we could prosper while under the radar.

Nobody knows District 5 like I do. Not the peacekeepers, not the mayor, not the rats that crawl in the sewers. Those times on the rooftops were the only times I felt I had control. Power. Strength. Maybe getting drafted into these games was fate. District 5 went without a victor for many years. Maybe I was meant to bring a little bit of control back to my district. After all, who is the Capitol without us?

Who am I kidding? I am here because of those books, for all I know. I'm in the 74th annual Hunger Games. The strongest prevails, and that certainly isn't me. For all I know, those books landed me in the arena. This is probably a form of cruel punishment. Tear me away from my home, my family, only to throw me in a game of death, twist my mind with notions of allegiance, possible friendship-

The Capitol anthem floods the air and the wheezy voice of Claudius Templesmith echoes over the arena. I wasn't paying the utmost attention, but he said something about a feast. I vaguely remember reading about feasts in the Hunger Games. Everything was becoming vague. I was losing focus to fatigue, hunger and dehydration. Regardless, I needed to keep my wits about me. I made my way down the tree and tracked to the Cornucopia, envisioning mountains of supplies, delicacies handed to us on a silver platter, like they were in the Capitol apartments.

As one might imagine, it was nothing like that.

In my fanciful vision's stead was a table in the steel polygonal mouth of the Cornucopia. Sitting on the table were four green bags, each about the size of my head. One for each remaining district. There was one for 2, 5, 11 and 12. It was obvious that Cato and Clove were still alive. My district partner had been killed early in the Games. Little Rue from District 11 had expired, and I almost felt pity- she seemed non-threatening, even friendly, before the Games. But Thresh, the large dark-skinned boy from 11 remained, and he scared me. Both Katniss and Peeta from 12 were still alive. And one of them was probably waiting on the sidelines for somebody to make the move.

I was desperately hungry. The twinge in my gut was becoming too much to bear. Without thinking much more on it, I sprinted for the bag, grabbed it, and disappeared into the brush.

I couldn't believe it. No one else had made a move, and I was still alive.

I made my way back to the forest and scaled a tree, eagerly awaiting my spoils. I undid the tie on the top of the bag and tipped it sideways over my waiting hand.

It wasn't food.

It wasn't water.

There wasn't even a box of matches.

What tumbled out onto my hand was a mix of sand, sawdust and coal dust.

I peered inside the bag. There had to be something there. They couldn't just leave me with nothing.

There was something, hidden in the folds at the bottom of the bag.

It was a note.

I pulled it out and unfolded it.

_This is all we can spare for you.  
>The Capitol, on behalf of District 2.<em>

I was numb. I couldn't react to that. They had tempted me with ashes, because of her. In that instant, I hated myself. I hated Clove. I had a burning, passionate hatred for the Games, the Capitol, the whole of Panem and the Earth. The dust fell to the earth beneath the branches, and my anger dissolved into silent sobs. I curled myself up around a tree branch, consumed by betrayal, and wept.


	21. Chapter 21

All I can say is, sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so here it is, hot off the press... or keyboard, whatever.

_**Clove**_

Cato and I had just heard the announcement. He was already hoisting his sword over his shoulder. By his body language, he made it clear that he was going alone. Probably some ego thing. All the same, I'd have no idea what would happen until he returned. There was no doubt in my mind that he would return, but I had the nagging feeling that some others wouldn't be so lucky. There were only about six of us left, and it was getting tense. They were drawing us in. The weakest would die. Cato would get there quick, but he'd stay on and ensure there was as much blood as possible.

"Cato..."

He sighed. "What is it, Clove?"

"...Let me go. I'm faster, and I have ranged weapons. It would be safer if I went... for us."

The last bit of that probably wasn't necessary. Of course, it wasn't entirely the truth. I had another to protect. Just because I wasn't with Fox, that didn't mean I could go back on my promise.

"Fine. Go. You see anyone else, though, make it messy. You owe me at least that much."

_Make it messy_. I'd heard those words before. They were the words of someone desperate. We were all desperate. There were our lives at stake.

I picked up my knives and tucked them into my belt. "Thank you." Why did I feel the need to thank him for this? This was all a glory fest for Cato. I was going behind his back. I was putting District loyalty on the line.

I left in a hurry, but once I was far enough away from Cato, I slowed down. I wanted to take my time. Whatever the Capitol had set out for us, no one would be stupid enough to take it. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jacket. What if I did come across someone? Would I kill them outright? That was the idea of the feast. Draw everyone in and, out of desperation, the blood would spill by itself. I kept my eyes on my feet, knowing that I would hear anyone coming before they'd get much time to pull a weapon on me. For now, I was far too interested in the leave and the dirt and... the sawdust?

I knelt down in the dirt and ran my hands through the pile of dust. There were flecks of black, like coal, and grainy particles like sand. The pile was only about a couple inches wide, and it looked like it had been dropped from above. I looked up.

There, rested in the fork of a tree, was a collection of fabric with copper strands sticking out from beneath it. I grinned. It was Fox.

"Psst!"

She didn't respond. I was beginning to worry. I picked up a clot of dirt and threw it against her jacket. The clod disintegrated on contact, but it did enough. She stirred.

"Ow. What was... whoa!"

She gracelessly slipped from the trunk of the tree, and landed right on top of me. The situation looked awfully familiar.

"Uh, Fox?"

"...owwww..."

I giggled. The sound was unfamiliar. Fox started chuckling too.

"Not even kidding, Fox, you're really heavy right now."

I gently rolled her off me. We lay there, giggling on our backs in the dirt.

"What were you even doing up there?"

Fox sat up, and pulled a green baggie out of her jacket.

"Look at the note on the base of the bag."

I pulled out the slip of paper and read it. I looked to the pile of dust, disturbed by the fall, but still distinct in its obscurity. My face flushed. "This is my fault."

"No, it's my fault."

"If I hadn't accepted the-"

"If I hadn't offered in the first place-"

"If I hadn't- oh, who am I kidding, this is entirely your fault."

"Yes it is."

"...I'm still sorry. I didn't know that they'd do something like this."

"Of course you didn't. Hey, haven't you got something to take care of?"

"...Oh. Yeah. That thing."

"I'd watch out for Thresh. He's been skulking around for a while. It might not be a good idea to arouse his attention."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I didn't move from the dirt. I didn't want to. I didn't care about Cato, or Thresh, or anything the Capitol could have waiting for us. I was far too comfortable here.

"Clove, you'd better go."

"Why? What good would it do?"

"Stop the Capitol from getting bored. Stop you from getting killed. You have to play the game, Clove, or people are gonna get hurt. Not just in the arena, either."

She spoke with urgency, as if she could see the events transpiring. I realised that Fox was right. After all, she was the smart one. How else would she have lasted this long? _You kinda helped with that._ I knew that she was still vulnerable. And I still felt an obligation to protect her.

I hoisted myself to my feet. "I'm coming back for you."

Fox stood and brushed the dirt off her pants. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am!" I responded indignantly.

"You can't. That would look far too suspicious."

"I don't want to let you die."

"... Clove, I can take care of myself."

"Look around, Fox, this isn't just a game. There are lives at stake."

"Yes, Clove, there are, but there are lives more valuable than mine."

_Not to me._ I couldn't say that. I wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction by saying it out aloud. My mind was swimming again. I didn't know what to do. I looked to Fox. Her eyes, those wonderful liquid amber eyes, were filled with sorrow. She knew the rules of this game as well as I did. She knew.

Without thinking much further on it, I collapsed into her. I threw my arms around her shoulders. The tears started to fall. I buried my face into her shoulder, a poor attempt to hide the emotion spilling forth from my facade. She held me, before pulling back to wipe the tears from my cheeks.

"You have to go now."

"I don't want to."

"But you have to."

She was absolutely right. But leaving now meant leaving her behind. This was the end of the line for us, and we both knew it was near the end of the line for her. All pretence had been stripped away, all barriers had been broken down, and now it was time to say goodbye. I could think of one thing to say.

"I meant what I said. I could never be the one to kill you."

She nodded and smiled a sad smile. "I know. I meant it, too."

With that, I turned tail and ran, not daring to look back. I forced the conversation out of mind and pulled out my blades. There wasn't much left of me to preserve, but what was left, I had to hold on to. For the sake of my District, for Cato... for my family, however fractured they may be.

I tumbled out of the bushes and bolted for the Cornucopia. All of the bags were gone, except for the one belonging to District 2. I was right; no one was stupid enough to take it. That didn't stop anyone hanging around, though, and I knew that full well. I picked up the bag and went to make a break for it, when a dark figure emerged from the bushes.

"_I'd watch out for Thresh. He's been skulking around for a while. It might not be a good idea to arouse his attention."_

Against all my training, I turned tail and ran. It showed fear, but I didn't care. Only an idiot would have no fear against the imposing stature of Thresh. Whether or not Cato was included in that category was yet to be determined.

Thresh didn't try pursuing me- he knew I was faster and he didn't waste his energy. All the same, I didn't stop running until I was long past the undergrowth and I was completely out of breath. I found myself at the base of the tree with the sawdust. I looked up into the tree, hopeful, but it was in vain. Of course, she wasn't there. I sighed and trudged back to camp.

"You're welcome." I said as I threw the bag at Cato's feet.

"Your knives are clean." Cato responded.

"...They were all gone by the time I got there."

"What took you so long?"

"I thought I was being tailed."

Cato's not the smartest guy around, but even he picked up the lie. He didn't say anything, though, merely chucked me my portion of the bag, labelled with my name. I opened the tie and glanced inside. What I saw made me sick.

Inside was a vial of a greenish substance. Wrapped around the vial was a note.

_This is poison. It will tear apart a person from the inside out.  
>What goes around comes around, Clove.<br>Be sure you use it._

"What did you get?" Cato asked, lounging back against a tree and taking a bite from an apple he'd just withdrawn from his bag.

"Nothing, really. Just some... antiseptic, I think. For injuries, and the like."

He shrugged and took another bite out of the apple. Watching him eat made me feel sick to my stomach.

"I'm gonna go find something for dinner."

"Don't go too far."

_I do what I want_. Well, I used to. Now I might be forced to do something I didn't want to do.

For the first time, I felt enormously, chronically, incurably, irrevocably scared.


	22. Chapter 22

Ah, the things you do to procrastinate maths assignments... Oh well, I needed to update anyway.

I have been planning this chapter for a while, and I was really looking forward to writing it. I'm glad that its out of my head now, and that I get to share it. We're coming up on the end here, if all goes according to plan. Things are getting intense. I hope you enjoy.

**_Foxface _**

I hated this. There was no more eloquent way to describe it. They call it the Hunger Games for a reason. I was absolutely famished. And filthy. And dehydrated. The bushes around where I had camped were completely stripped of berries. There was nothing to kill and eat, even if I had the tools for it. The river was farther away than I dared think about. I would starve here, but I could exhaust myself trying to find sustenance. I would die alone, purely because there would be nothing left in me to keep me alive. Of course, they planned it this way. Why else would they have pulled the stunt with the dust? They were trying to embarrass me. My death wouldn't be spectacular. It would be silent. It would be me, giving up on myself. I couldn't even keep myself alive. What a great laugh the Capitol would get out of that. The elusive girl from District 5, who so cleverly managed to avoid capture, killed by starving herself.

No matter the cost, I wouldn't give up that easily. I stood, delicately placing my feet beneath my body in an effort to support myself. They were already quivering with the weight and with exhaustion. I had nothing left but my jacket and the green bag that used to be full of dust. It looked watertight; I could use it as a container, if need be. If I could find anything useful to contain. I needed to find something first. I took shaky shuffles forward, supporting myself on the trunks of trees as I went. Meagre though the movement was, it was draining. I allowed myself to sit, leaning against a tree. I willed my eyes not to close, but they did anyway. My body relaxed, and I found myself drifting.

Until I heard rustling behind me. If anybody found me now, I was dead for sure. "Just kidding; I'll go look for some berries." My eyes opened and I tensed. That sounded like Peeta. I was there in the training hall when he threw a huge weight over his shoulder, impressing and terrifying the rest of the tributes. Well, not the Careers, but they're a different sort. The bottom line is, I knew how strong he was. And the game was nearing its end, an end that all remaining tributes were so desperate for. Those strong arms could probably snap my neck without any great deal of fuss. Or mess. Peeta and Katniss were both still alive. Combined, they were a force to be reckoned with. If I had the stability of mind and an able body, I would have probably had gotten out of their way as quick as possible. However, I was dazed and practically disabled. Luckily, though I could hear Peeta, he couldn't see me. He was still behind me. I managed to muster enough energy to roll onto my stomach and start crawling away. I kept to the undergrowth, a poor attempt at keeping out of sight. All the same, Peeta might be strong, but he has tunnel vision. I managed to slip past him pretty easily, even in my debilitated state. I allowed myself a smirk. It was one small victory; but then, it wasn't like I would get many more of those.

I pushed through some brush, supporting myself on my knees and forearms. There, in the dirt, I saw my salvation. There was a jacket laid out on the dirt. In the hood was a deep purple mass. I crawled over to it. They were berries. I recognized the type- they were nightlock. I went to scoop up a handful of them, in my desperation, but I hesitated. I couldn't for the life of me remember anything about the glistening, purple fruit. I couldn't even remember if they were good to eat or not. It's not like it mattered much. If I ate them, I could die. If I didn't, I would starve. I was taking a gamble, and a pretty extreme one, at that. My life was at stake. But I had no choice.

Just as I began to lift the berries to my mouth, I heard footsteps. Peeta's imposing frame came into view. He would definitely see me here. Forgetting the berries, I scarpered. Lord knows where I found the energy. All I felt was a pulsing between my hears and a pounding in my chest. I ran as fast and as far as I could before I collapsed into a shaking mess. My heart's pounding was soon echoed by the sound of a cannon. Another tribute was dead. I felt a bizarre mix of horror and relief flood my senses. Then came the screaming.

It was female, an anguished cry against the still of the air. It could only have been Katniss, and the cannon could only have been Peeta. The berries were poisonous. I had gotten lucky. Lucky that Peeta had found me when he did. However, having an enraged girl with a bow on my tail was probably not what anyone would consider lucky. If I could run, I would have. I would have run where no one could find me. I was terrified. I was helpless. I tried to collect myself, but to no avail. My quivering may as well have been a major earthquake. I buried my head in my knees, shielding myself from the harsh light of day.

That's when I found my back slammed against a tree, a my feet dangling inches above the ground. It was Thresh, his expression menacing yet sorrowful, gripping a sickle above his shoulder and tightening his stranglehold around my neck. "I am sorry to do this." His tone was thick, whether from the accent of his district or the gluggy dryness of throat that came with dehydration. "But I promise you, I will make it quick." That was it. It was over. There was nothing left that I could do. I closed my eyes and waited. I waited for the sharp steely sting of the blade, for the blood to come gushing from my throat. My borrowed time was up, and I had little to show for it. The last thing I could do was close my eyes and pray to any being that would listen. _Please_, I pleaded inside my head, _make_ _it_ _quick_.

The grip on my throat loosened. I felt wet droplets collide with my jacket, weighting it with moisture. I opened my eyes to find them staring into Thresh's, but they were empty. The burning russet was dulled into muddy brown, lifeless as the dirt itself. I looked down to see, not my blood, but his spilling forth from a great gaping hole in his torso. He collapsed on top of me, crushing me against the tree. Over his shoulder, I saw shiny grey tainted with thick glossy crimson. I was petrified all over again. The scarlet blade lowered. Thresh's body slid off mine to collide with the Earth. Standing there, bloodied and panting, was Clove.

I stared at her, completely bewildered. How was I to react? Should I run? No, I'm too weak, she'd catch me. Besides, she had just saved my life. And not for the first time. The knife fell to the earth with a dull thud. Clove took a careful step towards me. I didn't budge. She stood tall and met my eyes.

"I am never letting you go off on your own again."

The walls inside my head came crashing down. In that instant, it all became clear. Without any further hesitation, I staggered forward and wrapped my arms around her. She responded with equal fervour and we both collapsed to the ground, chests heaving and tears freely flowing.

"I'm so glad you're alive."

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"Don't ever leave me again, okay?"

"But what about Cato?"

She lowered her voice. "Screw Cato. I'm not spending my last days around him-"

"Clove."

"I don't care what you say, I'm staying with you. Okay?"

"Clove..."

"_Okay_?" She pulled back and her eyes pleaded with mine. They were still swimming in tears, but were resolute. I nodded.

"Okay."


	23. Chapter 23

I should be doing assignments... But I like writing more. Besides, everyone knows nobody actually studies in Study Hall.

This chapter doesn't have much in the way of action- it's a bit mushy. Ah well, character development.

On an unrelated note, I hate the autocorrect on the iPad. It might be a convenient device, but it's infuriatingly inaccurate.

Hope you enjoy!

_**Clove**_

I tossed Fox an apple that I had lifted from Cato's bag of goodies earlier. She gracelessly fumbled it between her hands, not quite letting it drop. Obviously she was weak, weaker than I had anticipated.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "You obviously haven't had much in the way of food for a while."

She hesitated before biting into the firm, sweet fruit. A minute later, the apple was gone- core, stem and all.

"Slow down, Fox, you're gonna give yourself indigestion."

"But I'm hungry!"

"And I'd bet you want that to stay in your stomach, correct?"

Fox rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "Fine." She sighed, before reclining back against a log. "I'm still hungry, though."

"Well, shall I go find us something for dinner?"

"Nuh-uh." She tugged on my wrist, pulling me down to the dirt beside her. "You have some explaining to do."

I had landed on my back in a remarkably awkward and painful position. I brushed the dirt off my forearms, wincing.

"Explaining? What the hell do I need to explain?"

"Firstly, you need to explain to me why I'm not dead."

"Oh. That."

"Yeah."

I sighed, leaning back against the log next to Fox with my arms tucked behind my head.

"I was with Cato, out hunting. He had developed a fixation with finding more blood to spill. So far he'd been unsuccessful in finding anybody, and he was after Thresh. Whether it was another glory kill or he was genuinely scared of him, I still don't know. Cato was frustrated, and demanded we go looking for something- anything.

"While we were out, I heard a noise. A rustling, like someone was moving through bushes. Cato was far too focused on spearing a waterfowl for supper, and didn't hear a thing. I went to check out where the noise was coming from by myself. By the time I found out where it was, there was nothing there. The bushes were still moving, though, as if somebody had just pushed their way through them. About a hundred feet to my right, I saw Thresh, sprinting. I knew he wouldn't be running from me- he didn't know I was even there- so he had to be running towards something. I could only think he was running after another tribute. I freaked out, thinking he was after you. But then he slowed down, almost as if he'd given up. He was vulnerable, and I would've been a fool not to take advantage of that. I forgot about Cato and his macho pride for those few seconds and followed him. Obviously, he could see you, but I couldn't.

"At this point, I was still following him, but at a distance far enough away that he couldn't hear me, or see me. For a few seconds, I had no idea what he was doing. I was about to dismiss it and go back to Cato, but then I saw you, clearly exhausted, struggling against Thresh.

"The next few seconds were a blur. The next I remember, Thresh was slumped against a tree and you were just standing there, shaking like a leaf, covered in blood."

Fox cocked an eyebrow. "So you don't remember stabbing him."

I shook my head and swallowed. "Absolutely nothing. One moment, I was fifty feet away, and the next, I was standing at the foot of the tree, holding a knife up to the handle in red sticky stuff."

There was a comfortable silence for a few seconds. How I wish it had stayed that way.

"Why didn't you just leave me?" Fox asked, hesitant. "It would have made it easier for you."

"... I couldn't. I couldn't live with myself if I did."

"Clove, that's the way the game goes. People kill other people; you know that from experience-"

"I wasn't about to let you die at my hand." I cut her off.

"At your hand?! It wasn't your sickle around my neck, was it? Besides, Clove, you of all people know I'm dead anyway!"

"Not if I can help it!" I lifted my voice above hers, indignant and convicted.

"Listen to yourself, Clove! You're willing to sacrifice yourself for someone from another District! That could get both of us killed, not to mention our families! Think about the repercussions! This game isn't just played in an arena, Clove. We're just the pawns."

I lowered my voice to a whisper, placing my hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me. I've seen too much death to be scared of it. I've seen too much blood to worry whether or not it's mine. I have nothing left to guard, nothing left to lose. You, on the other hand, have everything. You have a family back home that doesn't have a fixation on winning, on killing. You can go home to a place where you are taught nothing of pleasure and everything of pain. I don't want to go home, Fox... But I want to make sure you do."

Her eyes were already swimming. "Either way, one or both of us dies. And I don't want to live knowing that you're not here anymore."

I felt my own eyes stinging at the corners. "Death will bring peace, Fox. A peace I'd happily accept. The only reason I wanna be here is to make sure you are, too."

"Why?"

I thought of every possible reason. If not for her, I would be dead. If not for her, I would still be a monster, a sub-human; just another killing machine churned out by District 2. If not for her, I wouldn't be smiling, or laughing... Or feeling...

"You're everything I wish I could have been."

The final spurt of eloquence sent me tumbling over the edge. Hot tears spilled from my eyes, reflected in Fox's apologetic gaze. I couldn't bear to look anymore. I shut my eyes, trying not to see the light through my eyelids. I felt arms around my shoulders, pulling me down. Instinctively, my hands searched for something to grasp, and they ended up knotted in Fox's shirt. She held me while I fell apart, something nobody else had ever done. No one else had made me whole when the world was tearing away at my seams. And now, in the face of losing that, something I never had and would never have again, I was inconsolable.


	24. Chapter 24

Yes, it's been a while. There are things that I can't disclose that stopped me from writing. But I'm back now.

This story is nearing its end. I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it.

_**Foxface**_

We were both exhausted. The afternoon had wrought insane amounts of tension and stress. I knew we couldn't relax, but at the same time, vigilance is finite. We both needed rest.

It wasn't easy for me. I tried to close out my thoughts for the evening by reminding myself of the events that had transpired. I lifted my eyes to the faux-starry sky. I remembered.

I was starving and dying. I almost lost my senses to a pile of berries. My flight instinct saved me, and also got someone killed. I ran. I was found. I was held against a tree with swift death at my throat. I was saved by a miracle, despite not realising what a miracle it was at the time.

We had found a very broad tree that was easy to climb, if you knew how. I helped Clove up to the hollow fork in its lower most branches; Clove still wasn't brilliant at climbing. We sat there and watched the sun set in the west, and we talked. For once, it wasn't about the Games. We talked of home, and of hope. We made our own futures, our own fantasies.

_"I would have liked to have learned how to write."_

_"You can read, though, right, Clove? Writing is essentially just copying what you read."_

_"... I meant write prettily. With pretty letters and words. I wish I knew as many words as you do."_

_I giggled. "Why?"_

_"So I could write letters to people. To my mother and sister. I would write and tell them that I was working very hard to make them proud- except I would use much fancier words."_

_"Don't they teach writing in District 2?"_

_She smirked. "Only if you suck at hand-to-hand combat. Everyone says that writing is for losers. You get picked on if you can't write. Your hands aren't strong enough to handle a sword, so you pick up a pen instead."_

_I smiled back at her, lowering my voice so the Capitol couldn't listen in. "In some of the books I read at home, they had this saying; "The pen is mightier than the sword". I always thought it was poignant."_

_Clove lifted her eyebrows in bewilderment. "That's silly. You can't hurt someone with words. What does poignant mean?"_

_"Wars used to be started with words, Clove. It is said by some that the world started with words."_

_"I don't care how the world started. Tell me what poignant means."_

_"Hmm. I don't think I've ever seen a definition..."_

_"Then how do you know what it means?"_

_That was a fair question. "When you read something... Something of fancy... Sometimes they use different words to describe something. They use words that make it sound... Well, more poignant. When you read it and you don't know, you have to figure out what it means for yourself. That way, the word becomes special to you. Poignant; powerful and sharp, and you feel it pierce you like a needle. Words can be poignant. That's what writing is about; making your words poignant to someone."_

_I looked to Clove, whose brow was furrowed with attempted understanding. "I think I get it. Tell me another."_

_"How do I choose? There are so many..."_

_"Pick one for me." Her eyes were endearingly pleading. "Please."_

_I thought on it for a minute. Finally, something came to mind._

_"Incorrigible."_

_Clove nodded slowly. "Okay... What does that mean?"_

_I looked her square in the eyes, smirking a bit. "Stubborn to the point of danger."_

_She gasped in mock horror. "Hey, that's not nice!"_

_"No, but it was poignant."_

_She just sat there and looked at me for a moment. Then her eyes broke into a smile. She laughed. And I laughed with her._

_"_**You're **_incorrigible." She insisted, gently shoving me sideways. I shoved back._

_"I know. How else could I understand you?"_

Clove had fallen asleep, nuzzled into my side. The nights were getting colder. I felt drowsy, yet I quivered with consciousness in the chill. I would get very little sleep that night.

The following hours were spent attempting to find a comfortable spot on the tree without waking Clove. Everywhere I turned, there was a knot or a broken branch sticking into my back or my side. I groaned quietly in discomfort, throwing my head back against the bark and screwing my eyes shut, brow furrowed in frustration.

_Beep._

I froze stock still. I opened my eyes.

_Beep._

Wary and suspicious now, I reached around Clove's belt and pulled out one of her knives.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

_Thunk._

The metallic clunk echoed from a few branches above. I glanced up to the noise, the knife still held at eye level. Something glinted faintly in the starlight.

It was a metal canister, like a large can. Attached to the top of it was a silver parachute, which drifted lazily down over the side of the tree, nearly pulling the canister with it.

It was mine. It was intended for me.

I had to get it now.

I carefully shifted Clove off from my right side and laid her gently down on my jacket. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I nimbly scaled the branches to the canister. While it was large, it was also light. I shook it gently. There was something solid in it, but it didn't il the entire canister. I clicked open the latch. Inside was a large loaf of the sweet, unleavened bread made in my district, a portion of soft cheese, and a note from my mentor.

_I'm not meant to be telling you this, but the Capitol citizens love you two together. We at District 5 do too._

_It's not much, but it's all that District 5 could afford._

_Keep going, Fox. We're counting on you. _

_-Vreeta_

I smiled, somewhat giddily. Seizing the canister, I felt my way back down through the branches to the fork where Clove lay. She stirred when I made contact with the wood next to her.

"Whatcha got there, Fox?"

I held up the canister. "Midnight snack. You want to try?"

She sat up, eyes tired, but eager. I tore off some of the loaf and gave it to her. She eyed it in scrutiny.

"Why's it all flat?"

"We don't cultivate much stuff in District 5. Most of our raw foodstuffs are imported, and only really the essentials. It means that we don't usually have yeast. That's what makes bread rise. Because we don't have that, most of our bread is flat."

She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. "It's really sweet."

I nodded. "We've adapted to use short spurts of energy. A lot of it is mental work over in 5. Configuring outputs and matrix models. Sometimes a sugar rush is all you need to solve an issue."

Another beeping crescendoed above us. I saw another parachute come down and land right in Clove's lap. She opened the canister to find a small collection of what appeared to be round coloured pellets.

_A gift from the people of the Capitol._

Clove stared at them, clearly in confusion. I knew what they were. They were a sweet, not overly uncommon in the richer estates of District 5.

"You eat them, Clove."

"They won't hurt me?"

I chuckled. "No. They're pretty much pure sugar. See?" I picked one up and put it in my mouth, letting it fizzle out over my tongue. "Gone. No poison. Just sugar."

Clove was still confused.

"Why did they give this to me?"

I pulled out the note I had received and showed her. She smirked.

"Wow. Weird."

"I know. We're not out of the woods yet, though. The general population might love us, but that doesn't mean the Gamemakers do. In fact, we would be their perfect plot twist."

Clove snapped the canister shut and shoved it in her bag. "I'm nervous, Fox. Can we move on now? I don't want them thinking they can get us too comfortable."

I nodded. It made sense. It always had. Staying in one place too long was death. I lifted my pack and helped Clove to climb down the rough trunk of the tree.

We set off towards the east. It was uphill, away from the centre, where Cato would likely be staking his claim by now, knowing no one else would dare pursue him there.

I was weary, but I didn't let it show. Dawn would break in less than an hour. I didn't know how long it would be before sleep would follow. If it wasn't first eclipsed by death.

Clove was travelling ahead of me, munching on the District 5 loaf and the sugary capsules. Suddenly, she stopped dead still. I caught up to her.

"Clove, what is it?" I whispered.

"Don't move. Don't make a noise. Don't even blink."

Knowing better than to object, I did. To my left, i heard a twig snap. I gasped. Clove threw her hand over my mouth.

"Shh!"

She edged towards the noise, crouching low to the ground. All of a sudden, she stood. She looked calm, but I knew better. There was fear in her eyes.

"Drop your pack and run."

"Drop my pack? But we need-"

"No you don't. The Gamemakers are playing their final card. They want blood. Run."


	25. Chapter 25

Reviews are always helpful, except when they're not.

Thanks to Ackanine for your support during the (unexpectedly long) writing/publishing period.

_**Clove**_

There was no time to explain. My adrenalin only permitted me enough breath to stay moving. I cycled through my options. We could scale a tree... But there was always the chance that whatever was pursuing us could climb, and if it could, it was probably a much better climber than I. If we went towards the edge, we would be met with the Capitol's hazards, and we would be cornered between a painful death and an excruciating one. Our only option was to go to the centre. It was the obvious choice. I would expect to see the other tributes there, if they were any of them still alive.

I could hear Fox's footfall behind me and, even fainter, the heavy pace of the creature. And then the louder footfall disappeared, replaced by a hefty crush of leaves and sticks, and the force of a body colliding with the dirt. Oh no.

Against all instinct to keep running, I turned. Fox was on the ground, her leg twisted in a root and her face and arms scattered with the silty dirt. She lifted her head, and looked at me with those amber eyes. Those stoic, burning eyes. Those eyes that said what they said to me the first time I saw them.

Those eyes that were so terrified that they had near submitted to fear.

And yet they burned. They seared, and I fell helpless to them again.

I ran back to Fox, dropping to my knees and seizing the root. The rapid rhythm of the creature's approach grew louder and faster. My hands were shaking as I attempted to loosen the root from Fox's ankle. Her hands fell on top of mine, and she gasped.

"My ankle's twisted."

I met her eyes again. To my horror, I saw the sinking edges of her eyes, and the amber flame dying. This was it; she was resigning to death. A painful death.

"Leave me. I'm useless to you now. Go!"

"No!" Just because she had given up, that didn't mean I had to. I couldn't leave her now. We'd already survived so much.

"I'll slow it down, whatever it is. It'll give you a chance to get away."

"I'm not leaving you." The words were there, and they were final. I threw the root away and made to grab her hand. Fox pulled away.

"If you take me, we'll both die." Her tone was calm, unsettlingly so. Her eyes fluttered shut and she settled herself against the dead leaves and dry dirt.

It was a wonder that we hadn't been found yet; and, subsequently, torn to shreds. Even without whatever beast thirsted for our blood, I was, in that moment, being torn in half. It was no more than a month ago that we first saw each other, and no more than a week ago that we first spoke, and it wasn't in polite terms, either. Yet now I felt as if life... This life, what has become of it, in its twisted and manipulative turns, where death is adored, but dying is repulsive... It would not be complete without the fox-faced girl in it. Whether it was because, if she died, it would be me that would be automatically responsible, or it was something more... I couldn't leave her. Guilt would consume me before any creature could touch me. It's ironic, almost, to think that I would have smiled at her suffering in times before. Now, in my wholeness, my humanity... To leave her is near unthinkable.

So I didn't. I slid my arms underneath her and, with what remained of my strength, threw her over my shoulder. I held her, and I ran. To my surprise, Fox didn't resist. I ran for the centre. The sun was going down, despite that it was far too early. The area surrounding the Cornucopia was devoid of bodies. Seeing no other option, I ran for it. I moved quickly, surged by adrenalin and emotion that would have meant my end minutes ago, had I lacked.

I fell gasping against the smooth metal wall of the Cornucopia, letting Fox fall from my shoulder. She looked up, analysing the sheer surface.

"We're cornered." She said.

"You'll have to climb."

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can, I'll help you."

Fox looked back at me, again with that look. I wouldn't let her resign to this. I couldn't. I turned her around and pushed her up the wall.

"Hey!" She turned around, her eyes shooting daggers into mine.

"I'm doing this for you. Climb."

Her eyes widened, but she wasn't looking at me. Her terrified gaze was directed over my shoulder. I turned. Whatever had been looking for us had found us.

And it looked none too friendly.

"CLIMB. NOW!"


	26. Chapter 26

Almost 100 reviews! Wow! Thank you to everyone who has read this or supported me over the past... year? It's got to have been about a year now... maybe I should get on top of that...

Anyway, thank you to all. Here's the next chapter. We're very near the end. Hope you enjoy.

_**Foxface**_

The very sight of it paralysed me. It galloped towards us, lolling its gigantic head such that its slack jaw bounced, revealing a saliva-slicked tongue and great, ugly teeth. Its breath was its forewarning, a stench of decaying flesh and simultaneous hunger- a stench of death. It was enormous, it was powerful... and we were its playthings.

Clove seized me by the shoulders and pushed me up the metal. "Climb, dammit!"

I obeyed, too blinded by fear to think beyond that.

The wall was almost sheer, near impossible to find purchase upon. But I was used to this. I knew just how much pressure to exert on the wall such that I didn't slip, and at the same time, didn't exert too much energy. It was instinct by now. A flurry of limbs carried me to level ground. I threw down a hand for Clove. She grabbed my wrist and braced herself against the metal. There was a world of anxiety in her eyes. We both knew she wasn't very good at this. She scraped wildly, searching for a seam in the metal. The doglike beast made a lunge for her leg...

With one final tug, she collapsed on the top of the Cornucopia. The behemoth creature made a forceful attempt to follow, but to our great relief, he hadn't been engineered with opposable thumbs. After making a final bash against the metal, he gave up and left.

We lay gasping against the biting cold. I found Clove's jacket and pulled her to me. I felt her rapid breath against my cheek, matching my heart rate in its frequency and desperation. She wrapped a quivering arm around my neck and forced herself to exhale. I stroked her hair.

"It's over. It's all right, I've got you."

I lifted my head from her shoulder and glanced at her legs, sprawled behind her. There was a fresh gash on one of them, oozing scarlet in the pale moonlight.

"It got me."

Oh no. I freed myself from Clove's grasp and carefully turned her over so I could examine the wound. It was long, extending from the inside of her thigh to the back of her calf. It wasn't as deep as it could have been, thank God, but it was enough to cause pain and to cripple her significantly.

There was very little I could do about it. All our supplies had been ditched. The best I could do now was to restrict the blood loss and encourage the flesh to heal the best it could.

I removed my jacket and began to tear at the already tattered hem of my shirt. Clove looked at me in a mixture of confusion and slight horror.

"What are you doing, Fox?!"

"I'm going to bind your wound. Don't freak out... it might sting a little bit."

I held the first strip over the length of the wound. Clove winced and I felt her calf muscle tighten under my hands. A dark stain flooded the surface of the material, in some places oozing beyond its bounds.

"Relax as much as you can, or you'll lose more blood than you need to."

"I didn't really need to lose any blood in the first place."

"Shh. Relax. Don't be snarky."

"Fine," she sighed, reclining against my jacket.

I tore smaller strips from my shirt, tying them carefully around Clove's leg. It seemed to seal the wound and stem the bleeding, but Clove didn't look much happier.

I smiled weakly at her. "You can sit up now. I need my jacket back."

She smirked back just as weakly, and feebly threw my jacket back to me. Clove shuffled herself over to rest on my shoulder. I could see it was painful for her to move, even a little.

We didn't speak for a little while. I used the time to review things. We had to be one of only a few left, but the problem remained that those few were excessively dangerous. Now we were exhausted, vulnerable, and Clove was injured. It was something she wouldn't have been used to, vulnerability. It was understandable that she would be freaking out. I remembered all the times I was at her mercy, and yet here I remained. Now Clove was completely dependent on me, and it was about time I returned the favour. Still, the timing was anything but optimal.

I checked Clove's wound a little while later. She had passed out, so hopefully I wouldn't cause her as much pain as I had when putting the bandages on. As I pulled back the fabric, a congealed substance fell from the gash. The edges of the wound had begun to bruise. It didn't look very good. Her skin was mottled in brown and yellow and green. It occurred to me that this was no ordinary wound. It had somehow been infected, despite my best efforts. The beast's teeth would be riddled with disease, but the gash was in such a position that it would have been caused by claws. It seems unlikely that they would be as dangerous... but what if that was what they were meant to do? I wouldn't put it past the Capitol to make something with venom in its paws. It was also unlike the Capitol to give it a weapon with no cure. The venom was only meant to debilitate, not kill- the killing would be left to the creature's brute force.

I had to fix this.

I thought of all the possible cures for infection, tried to remember all the plants I had seen out here... every one of which would be at least fifty metre's run, enough to de discovered and shot at, stabbed... it was a risk. A risk that, despite my best instincts, I was inclined to take.

I gently shook Clove, and she stirred.

"What is it, Fox?'

"Your wound's gotten worse. I need to go get some stuff for it."

"But what if someone finds you?"

"It's a miracle we haven't been found already. I'll take the risk."

"Fox, don't-"

I looked her in the eyes, my glare intense. "You'd do this for me, wouldn't you?"

"That's not the point-"

"I owe you this much, Clove. Don't try to stop me- you'll hurt yourself."

She lowered her gaze from mine. That had her. She was at my mercy, and I _would_ help her, whether she wanted me to or not.


	27. Chapter 27

I feel terribly guilty for how long it took me to get off my ass and write.

This is taking longer than I anticipated. It's like, "Okay, in this chapter, this is gonna happen, and this is gonna happen, and voila, story will be done soon."

Nope. I didn't get everything down that I wanted to, without making the chapters longer than I'd like them to be.

I guess it's just a testament to how rich the subtext and the context are in the Hunger Games novel.

For anyone still with me, thank you. Please enjoy this next chapter, and feel free to rage at me in reviews.

_**Clove**_

The edges of my vision were beginning to blur. Nausea came in waves, and I felt myself fighting for consciousness. The metal beneath my skin soothed and it stung. Everything in me was telling me to give in to the pain, to let it win and to allow sleep to carry me quietly, but I knew that wasn't an option. Fox was still alive, and was returning with a cure. _She still needs me, _I told myself. _She wouldn't be alive without me._

I hadn't much grappled with the truth behind that statement recently, if there was any truth left at all.

I didn't much like feeling vulnerable. You don't get much more vulnerable than being near passed out on top of a shiny object in the middle of an open field. And still, I believed that I was useful to someone else. I was so arrogant to believe that I could protect someone, that I was a matter to someone. Then again, I'd always been insufferably arrogant.

I lifted my head to see the damage that awful beast had done to my leg. I immediately wished I didn't. Bloodied pus was seeping out from beneath the bandage, which was itself beginning to look a little green.

_Oh God, let me die._

_**Foxface**_

I was insane. There was simply no other explanation. There were four of us left, and I had made myself vulnerable to help someone else. It wasn't like I was any less doubtful before, but the last few hours had me teetering over the edge. My head was all over the place, and I could see no feasible possibility of the situation improving.

I took a minute to get things straight.

Clove was waiting, practically paralysed, on top of the Cornucopia, from which I had just sprinted. It was a good seventy metres away from the tree I was crouched behind. I was running on empty; there was nothing left within me but the feeblest flicker of hope. But for what? I find remedies for her injury (which was probably becoming more ugly and debilitating by the minute), go back and fix them, and then one or both of us ends up dead, which is more than likely going to happen within the next twenty-four hours. I was resigned to failure, and yet here I was- prolonging it. What was the point? I wasn't doing it for Clove anymore; she was about as dead as I was. There was little point in doing it for myself. The pride the came from my District in the form of silver canisters bearing food had long expired.

I was nothing now.

What was the point of even returning to the Cornucopia? There was no fulfilment in anything now. I tried to cry, to let emotion overwhelm me before I can finally feel no more, but my eyes were too dry for tears. My soul was too withered for anything.

I could have walked away. I could have walked calmly into the silence and emptiness of death. But I didn't.

I felt too guilty.

Even though I had nothing, felt nothing, was worth nothing... there were things I needed to finish.

I made a promise to Clove, and I'm not going anywhere without first fulfilling that.

It was almost too dark to make out the different shapes of the leaves I was after. Even the sharpest of eyes could miss something in this light. I had to be careful, or I could pick up something nasty.

I kept alert, listening for anything that could be dangerous... so, really I was listening to everything. In the midst of the ghostly echo of a cracking branch, or a rustle of leaves spawned that was nothing more than imagination, I heard familiar noises; a rhythmic chirp of crickets, the whistle of the gentle wind through branches, soft as the sea on sand. I heard all the gentleness and the sweetness of nature, duly interspersed with a beat of danger. These were sure to be my last hours, and it was only then I heard the symphony.

I wondered how many people had ever listened so intently to this incidental soundtrack. Nobody here; this distraction, while welcome, is still perilously disarming. I thought about what the other tributes were doing. Cato, ever a threat, was probably on the move, sword held high and head emptier than ever. This game either floods you with fever or makes you numb, and for Cato, I fear it would be the latter. He felt nothing, and that made him a monster. _Then again, _I thought, _how are the rest of us any better?_ Katniss, on the other hand, would still be licking her wounds over Peeta. She would raise hell to avenge him, forgoing all caution. She would be out for blood.

_How are the odds looking now?_

I dropped to my knees to check under the bushes, and felt a familiar dig against my ribs. I lifted my shirt. Clove's knife was still in my belt. I pulled it out and took a look.

I don't think I realised how ornate it was. The curved handle was rendered with ridges, curling against one another in a cacophony of texture. Grip, yes, but also beauty. These knives were designed for Clove; every blow from one of the silver daggers was a personalised death certificate. These knives kill with style. They nearly killed me, and they could kill Cato and Katniss.

But could I?

I heard footfall and immediately stilled. Could it have just been a desperate mind? But no, the steps continued. I was hidden from anyone's view by thick foliage, but that doesn't mean I couldn't get stepped on.

The knife was all I had. It reflected what light was left from the moon into my eyes, as if to say, _use me. Use me._

I shuffled as quietly as I could into the thickness of the scrub, knife held at eye level, in an attempt to catch a glimpse of the source of the noise.

A dishevelled Katniss moved catlike though the trees, bowstring pulled to its maximum tension... ready to shoot anything that dared move.

Did I dare move?

She took a step in my direction. My heart jumped in my chest, pounding as if to betray my silence. I closed my eyes for a moment and silently exhaled. Katniss turned her back.

Show time.


	28. Chapter 28

Long chapter this time. I finally got up to where I wanted to end a chapter.

Writing this one was a bit of a slog, but I think it will elicit a reaction.

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated.

_**Clove**_

BOOM. I was drawn out of sleep by the sound of the cannon. Someone else was dead. I thought I knew who, but in my delirium, I paid no mind. Maybe I would join her soon anyway. I had nothing within me left for grief.

My leg was now completely immovable. Not for pain, but for complete lack of feeling. The infection that had destroyed my calf was travelling, slowly, like it was taunting me. The venom that had made poison of my blood wouldn't kill me, but it would gradually take away anything else that I had. I wanted to scream. I wanted to let the world know how angry I was. I wanted somebody to come and finish the job that the beast had started. I wanted it over.

My throat was too dry for screaming. I didn't recall the last time I had water. My injuries had me in a feverish cold sweat, drawing even more moisture from my skin. The bouts of searing pain had disappeared, but now I was shivering, the chill of the night air bringing goosebumps to my exposed flesh.

I reached gingerly behind my head, pulling my jacket out from beneath it. The fever had given me headaches. I had drifted in and out of sleep on that jacket more times than I could count, and each time I woke up groggier. I threw the jacket over my upper body and stuck my hands in the pockets.

My fingers fell on an unfamiliar object. I pulled my left hand out of its pocket, attempting to focus my tired eyes on the strange item.

It was a smooth transparent tube, rounded at the bottom. A white stopper was wedged into the top end of the tube, containing a viscous emerald liquid. I remembered.

_It will tear apart a person from the inside out.__  
><em>_What goes around comes around, Clove.__  
><em>_Be sure you use it._

_What goes around comes around... be sure you use it.__ I saw my opportunity in that little green vial. I was already being ripped up from the inside... this would probably do the job a little faster, with the added bonus of making sure I never wake up. _

_I brought my other hand out of my pocket, using what remained of my strength to pull myself into a sitting position. I chose to ignore the quivering that wracked my body, and put my effort into focusing my eyes on the deadly little draught that clung to the sides of its fragile glass container. I tried to pull the stopper out, but my clammy fingers offered no purchase. It was mocking me. __Here is death, nice and easy,__ it was saying.__ Come and get me. But... oh, wait! You can't, can you? Your fragile little fingers aren't strong enough to undo me. And you aren't strong enough to kill yourself._

_I thought to cut it off. __Where is my knife?__ I fiddled around with my jacket, trying to find it, but it wasn't there. In that moment, I realised what an idiot I was. __Stupid.__ I knew better than anyone that a knife was just as certain a death as poison. I glanced down to the grass beneath the cornucopia and through my bleary eyes I saw the familiar glint of my knife, clear as day, stuck handle-up in the grass. __It must have fallen out while we were running.__ The shame was humiliating. I wondered how many people were watching, laughing, at my near-drunken stupidity. I can't even kill myself right. How ridiculous._

_I wiped my hand on my pants and tried the stopper again. Slowly, it yielded. My hand shook as I raised the vial to the sky- a final toast to all the people who made my life hell, from the day I started training for these stupid Games to this day. To my trainers, my mentors, my parents, to Cato and the other potential tributes._

_I lowered the vial, bringing it closer to my lips. __There was only one good thing to come out of my whole twisted existence, __I thought, as death drew closer, inch by inch. __The only thing I can ever be proud of, that I can ever remember with a smile... __I began to tilt the vial._

_"CLOVE!"_

_... Fox?_

_**Foxface**_

_It was bloody. Even after I had sheathed the blade in Katniss' back three times, she was still thrashing her bow around. It's very difficult to get someone with an arrow when they're six inches behind you, but Katniss died trying. She died with silver twisted through her heart, pouring crimson from her mouth onto the dirt. She died spectacularly. I would have felt even guiltier than I did now, had she not._

_I tried not to think about it. I wore her blood like armour. It was still warm and thick against my skin, dripping from the knife, still gripped in my white-knuckled left hand. My right delicately held the herbs and leaves needed to cure Clove of her ailments. Holding death in my left hand and life in my right, I trudged back towards the Cornucopia. The cannon's hollow boom echoed above me. It did no more to rattle my bones._

_I stepped out into the open air. The night had chilled. Where before I would have run, I merely walked. Before my heartbeat was in my ears. Now I am still. _

_The Cornucopia echoed the moon's light with a dull sheen. I glanced to the roof, relieved to still see Clove's dark outline against the sky. She was sitting up. She had something in her hand, and was bringing it closer and closer to her mouth..._

_I called out to her. She stopped, but did not answer back._

_The fear returned to me, and I ran to her. I vaulted myself up over the dull metal, faster than I had ever climbed before. She still didn't respond to me._

_She was pale and clammy. The thing in her shaking hand was a vial, green as sin with liquid death. It was a vial of poison. I knocked it flying. She looked at me with accusation, before her eyes rolled back and she fell against the metal._

_"Clove?"_

_No response._

_"Wake up. Clove, wake up!"_

_I put my ear to her chest. Her heart was still beating. I put my hand to her icy cheek._

_"WAKE UP!"_

_Her head lolled to the side. I lifted her lids. Her pupils were tiny. She was alive, but it wasn't looking good._

_I saw no other option than to set to work on her leg. I lifted the bandage. The flesh had been eaten away to the muscle, and what remained was shades of green and yellow. I immediately felt the need to be sick._

_The leaves were crumpled in my left hand. I steeled myself, and did my best to draw out the poison. I arranged the leaves over the wound, earning a groan from Clove. I tore more strips from my shirt to bind them. Everything I could do, I did, trying not to let hastiness get the better of me. I had to be thorough._

When I had finished, I laid down next to Clove, attempting to redistribute some body heat so her temperature didn't plummet. The poison alone couldn't kill her, but hypothermia could.

While I lay there, I did something I hadn't done in forever.

I prayed.

I prayed to the God I was sure didn't exist, the God that was undone millennia ago. I prayed to anyone or anything that would listen.

_Do what you want with me,_ I thought. _Whatever you want, just let her live. Just let her get out of here alive._

Clove's head rolled towards mine. Her eyelids fluttered. I held my breath.

"Fox?"

_To whoever was listening, thank you._ "Oh, thank God!" I brushed a lock of dark hair out of her face. She pulled herself up, rejecting my advance to help her.

"Why did you do that?"

I didn't understand. "Do what? Heal your leg?"

"No... why did you ruin my poison?"

"Clove... you were... you were delirious, that poison would have killed you within five minu-"

"Exactly."

Oh, heavens. "I'm not letting you die, Clove."

"Why not? What have I got left to live for, even if I do make it out of here? A leg amputation and the collective shame of an entire district! You just took away my one way out. What gives YOU the right?!"

I opened my mouth to retort, but I could think of nothing to say. Clove was right. I'd done something in the moment that I thought was right, and I took the decision forcibly from her hands. I'd saved her from herself, or so I thought. I wasn't saving her from anything. Instead, I condemned her.

"Clove... I'm sorry."

She sighed. "Apologies won't make me die quicker. Leave me be."

That was it. She didn't even put up a fight. She lay down, rolled away from me and ignored my existence. This isn't the Clove I met at the start of the Games. This Clove was too tired to take another step. This Clove was older and wiser, wearied by the world as opposed to angry with it.

I stood and looked down at Clove. _I have to leave her. What good would it do if I stayed?_ The corners of my eyes stung, but I wouldn't let myself cry.

"Goodbye, Five."

Five. She hadn't called me that since the start of the Games. At least she had the courtesy to bid me farewell.

"'Til we meet again, Clove."

I sat on the edge of the Cornucopia and pushed myself down the surface. I landed lightly on my feet, but my heart was heavy. I prepared myself to walk away.

An unfamiliar whistling filled the air. A metallic clang echoed from my left. I looked to the source of the sound.

A spear. I looked out to the field.

Cato was hurtling towards me, hoisting another spear over his head with his right hand, and preparing to draw his sword with his left.

He had me trapped. There was only one way.

Up.

I grabbed the spear and launched myself back up the Cornucopia. The second spear connected inches from my shoulder. Cato must have been exhausted; otherwise I would already be dead.

I threw myself over the metal, landing with a thud on the roof. Clove hadn't moved. Cato was up a second later, almost immediately on top of me.

There was no way out for me. _Wait. Except one. _Cato was drawing back his sword, swinging it forward to take my head, as I drew Clove's knife from my belt and held the blade over her chest.

"You move that thing another inch and I take her with me."


	29. Chapter 29

I know it's been forever, but I am back. I promise you that this will be finished soon.

I can actually say that in confidence, because I've finished writing the epilogue! Yaaaay!

Hope you guys enjoy (and are willing to refrain from slapping me).

_**Clove**_

Fox had barely disappeared over the edge of the Cornucopia before she was back again, hurling herself over the metallic edge and sliding over the cool surface. Had the Games finally sent her crazy? She was just making it harder by sticking around. God knows this hurt me too.

"Fox, what are you doing? Go away!"

She didn't respond, but scrambled her feet. I heard other noises, more metallic collisions, coming from beneath me. I looked over to the noise.

There stood Cato, covered in filth and blood, with a maniacal curve pulling at his blistered lips. It was a look I had never seen on his face before. Cato was always so clinical... now he just looked like a rabid dog.

Cato thrust his sword at Fox. He missed, swinging wildly. I could only guess that he was delirious, not due to hunger or thirst, but insatiable bloodlust.

Cato kept on thrusting at Fox. She dodged, falling to her knees beside me. This was it. Cato had her. He'd won.

Or at least I thought he had. Fox fumbled around her belt, and from it produced a familiar silver object.

My knife.

I expected her to try to throw it at Cato, or plunge it into her own chest.

I didn't expect her to dangle it precariously over mine.

"You move that thing another inch and I take her with me."

Cato lowered his sword ever so slightly from Fox's throat. He giggled childishly, before bursting into deranged laughter.

"What? Don't play me for a fool. We're the only ones left. You kill her, I kill you, I win-"

"And you return to your district a traitor and a monster." Fox hissed in reply.

"What?" Delirium had obviously not brought Cato any intellectual enlightenment; he was still as thick as ever. As much as I wanted to pull the knife from Fox's hand and finish the job myself, I figured life would be bearable while this scene played out.

"The rule still stands; there can still be two victors if they come from the same district. If you win, and you go home alone, you will be ridiculed. District Two would be ashamed of a victor who could have saved his district partner, but was prevented only by pride." Fox's voice was lifting into the night, louder with every word. "These Games turned you into a killer, yes, but more than that, they made you a monster. They made you less than human; they made you a beast! How does that feel, Cato? Would you rather live an empty existence with that guilt weighing on your shoulders for the world to see, or would you rather finish this the noble way?"

Cato, stunned by the passionate speech, took a few steps back.

"Fine. Fine, you're right. You die either way, but I'm not gonna be a coward about this."

Fox grinned. "Glad to know you agree." She tossed the knife in her hands, seizing it from the air with the tip still dangerously close to my head. "Let's finish this. Gentleman first."

She gestured to the ground. Surprisingly, he looked as if he would succumb.

"Cato..." I spoke to him for the first time since I had left.

He said nothing, merely offering a sad, strange smile. While I always knew Cato was a dimwitted hothead, he was the closest thing I had to a brother. I was out of the game, immobilised. Anything that happened from this point onwards was out of my hands. I would lose Cato, the constant thorn in my side that had been there for years, or I would lose Fox, who had frustrated me more in the span of two weeks than anybody else ever had. And yet, I couldn't bear to see either of them die, especially at the hand of the other.

I would rather die myself, but death was out of my grasp. There was no instrument left to me that could bring peace. I could only suffer in this living hell, watch it unfold around me, listen to it mock me while I am unable to tear myself away.

_**Foxface**_

This Game changes people. I saw that change wash over Cato. I saw him falter when I drew the knife. I saw him desperately trying to hide his emotions behind a bloody facade. If there's one thing I know how to do, it's manipulate. I saw the cracks in his armour, and I lunged for them.

"Would you rather live an empty existence with that guilt weighing on your shoulders for the world to see, or would you rather finish this the noble way?"

I almost thought he wouldn't believe me. Murder left Cato red and raw. The very act that strengthened his chances has weakened his resolve. I was prepared to dig desperately in the mire to save myself. I had seen death; I had been death. It didn't look happy. I didn't want Cato to kill me. My death would not be reduced to his victory.

"Cato..."

Clove spoke. I saw the way she looked at him. It was a desperate gaze, a peculiar sort of pleading. It made me irrationally possessive. She couldn't possibly... she said she hated him. I caught myself, and scolded myself for thinking so trivially when I locked eyes and blades with life and death.

Cato looked back at me. I motioned to the ground.

He nodded.

"On three."

"One." I started.

"Two." He readied his stance, never removing his eyes from mine.

"Three."

And we were flying.

I rolled as I hit the ground, springing to my feet. I gave myself some distance. Cato hit the ground next to me, his sword held in front of his face. There was no mistaking the power he wielded. I had to concede; he would be a worthy victor- worthy of the Capitol's extravagant showers of praise, worthy of going home proud.

I confess, I hadn't really planned a strategy. I hadn't thought that far ahead. Cato was an opponent I never thought I'd see enough daylight to face.

He and I had not yet traded blows. We held our weapons out in front of us, carefully circling each other. I stole a glance at the sky, hoping Cato would not use that to his advantage. He didn't.

"We should finish this quickly, otherwise they'll bring back the mutts."

He nodded. "Good idea."

Cato lunged forward, thrusting his sword towards my ribs. He was wearied and sluggish, but still managed to draw a thin trickle of blood. I stumbled backwards, nearly tripping.

The gleam returned to his eyes. His lip lifted to bear a toothy grin. He had me. There was nothing left for me to do.

I turned tail and ran.

Everything in me was searing. I had forgotten, if only for a little while, how much everything hurt. Blood was burning at the edges of my vision. It was dripping off me like sweat. It was tearing at my skin as it dried and flaked. Cato's heavy steps oh-so-close behind me was boiling the blood in my ears. He need only seize me by the arm and pull me back onto his blade, and it would all be over. He would have won fair and square.

I hated him for it.

The anger was what drove me into the line of trees before Cato could swipe at me. His breath was heaving, and his pace faltering. I remembered seeing Katniss up a tree, taunting Cato as he failed miserably to scale the bark.

Maybe the odds weren't in Cato's favour after all.

The trees were thinner here; I would be more easily seen. It took everything I had left to pull myself to the safety of the high branches. I could have died right there.

Cato hadn't seen me. He broke through the brush heaving, but still held a white-knuckled grip on his sword. As much as his courage infuriated me, he could almost be pitied for his long-suffering.

"No one pities the dead."

He glanced upwards and I dropped down behind him, slashing at the backs of his knees before plunging the knife through his chest. Cato's screams punctured the dying moonlight before being silenced by a gurgle of blood.

The tyrant was no more, yet the cannon that declared his demise brought no peace to my heart.


	30. Chapter 30

Well, excluding the epilogue, this is the last chapter…. I've known what I wanted to do with this for a while, but writing it was… well, let's say I'm going to miss this story a lot.

But, who knows… maybe I'll write something Catching Fire or Mockingjay related.

Here is chapter 30- now yours to read.

_**Clove**_

I hoped neither of them would come for me. If Fox came trudging back through the bushes, it would mean she would be coming back to kill me. Why else would she have killed Cato? It was her or us. If she lived, I would die. But if Cato came back through the bushes, everything I had fought for in these Games, everything I had done would have been for naught. I couldn't figure what was worse; dying at the hands of life, or living by the hand of death. The worst part is, I could do nothing about it. The choice was not even mine to make.

I had been a fool. The entire game, I had been deceived. I had been tamed like a dog, and with any luck, now I was going to die like one. How could I have been so stupid? There would be no comfort afforded to me, if I went home. People would spit in my face for my cowardice, for my ignorance of everything that I had been taught. Not even Sage would be able to meet my eyes again.

Sage. My beautiful, innocent sister, still so blindly corrupted by District 2's obsession with pride. It would be worse than never seeing her again; having an older sister who won the Games by lying on her back would bring a shame she doesn't deserve. I would lose her in a way worse than death.

Cato would be no better. There would be smiles for the cameras, but the embarrassment I bear upon him would not be hidden in private. He might be little more than a mercenary, but he was the only friend I had back in 2.

Of course, this is assuming I make it back to 2 at all.

If I didn't…. well, it wouldn't be pretty, but at least I'd be dead. With Cato dead, Fox would have to kill me. Would she be merciful, or would she draw it out? Would she punish my own stupidity? I had trusted her so much. I had killed for her. I would have died for her, too… not that it means much at the moment. An empty black abyss certainly seems more comfortable than this.

At least if she kills me, she would have won. Well, too- I don't think the Capitol would have ever had such a manipulative victor. If she won, District 5 would become formidable. I'm really left with no other option but to be happy for her, even as she's killing me. With my own blade, no less. It seems almost comical, now, how idiotic I've been. How did I survive this long in the first place? Cato, mostly.

Brutal, bloody Cato. Maybe he's already teetering on the edge of death. Or maybe it was Fox who was inches from her demise. I couldn't stand to entertain the idea either way. I was being torn in two, for what seems to be the millionth time. Why couldn't I have died quickly and quietly? Then it wouldn't matter who won and who died.

BOOM.

My heart sank.

One of the two were now most definitely dead.

And now, I either died or I lived.

Even if I could choose, I wouldn't be able to pick which one to suffer.

I didn't know which option was worse.

_**Foxface**_

He was beginning to grow cold already. His sword had landed a few feet away from him. I looked to the sky and saw that day was breaking, and the hovercraft was coming.

I stood, looking down at the lifeless form of the hulking figure. He looked so young in death. Cato really was just a boy, a boy who had been born with great responsibility, and died trying to uphold it. It was more than anyone should have to deal with, no less a boy of only eighteen.

"I'm sorry."

The words slipped out before I knew I meant them. But I was. His death would cause suffering. There was already enough suffering in this miserable world, and I just added more. He had family, presumably friends, too. And he had Clove.

I had just taken Clove's last hope.

The hovercraft was still whirring above me, waiting for me to walk away. I looked to Cato's sword. I could take it.

My stomach turned as I realized I would no longer need it.

I turned my back on what was left of Cato, and I turned back to the Cornucopia. Day's first light was already glinting off its silver tip.

I walked toward the light. There was only one thing left for me to do.

_**Clove**_

As the sun rose, I heard the rustle of leaves and breaking of branches. Though unwilling to face my fate, I lifted my head.

I saw the hovercraft lift a mass from the trees, and the copper-haired head emerged from the bushes.

My fate was sealed. I may as well already be dead.

I could still barely move. The edge of the Cornucopia was only a foot away. If I fell off… it was only an eight-or-so foot drop, but if I landed right, I could snap my neck. It would be quick and practically painless.

Fox was moving ever closer. I would have to be quick.

I shuffled. It hurt. I ignored it.

When there was empty space beneath me, I fell.

Unfortunately, after I hit the ground, I was still alive.

Even more unfortunately, after I lifted my lids again, Fox was running towards me.

This would make, what, the second time I couldn't even kill myself?

The sun was shining ever brighter, and death was moving ever closer. Her knife- my knife- shone crimson, thickly dripping.

Fox sank to her knees beside me.

"Please, just…. make it quick. You at least owe me that much."

She said nothing, but I saw something in those amber eyes. I saw pain, and hurt. I saw madness. I wondered if it was actually her anguish I was seeing, or just a reflection of my own.

I watched her readjust her grip on the knife, wiping the edges of the blade on the grass. She was shaking. With her other hand, she brushed my filthy black locks away from my face, before bringing it back to the handle of the knife, now lifted two feet above my chest.

She smiled at me one last time. It was a sad smile, the one that says, "Oh well, we tried."

"I'm sorry, Clove, I truly am. You don't deserve this… but I'm not strong enough to endure it myself."

A lone tear rolled down her cheek as she brought the knife down and plunged it deep into her own chest.


	31. Epilogue

This is it. This is the end.

Thank you all so very much for your patience and kindness and support.

Panem quickly forgot about the 74th Annual Hunger Games. Although the story was touching, there is little appeal to a victor that won lying down.

Clove was picked up by the hovercraft, patched up and put in front of the audience of the Capitol. Her apathy was passed off as sorrow, a side effect of returning home without Cato. But it was never just Cato.

They say that no one wins the Hunger Games. Clove certainly didn't feel like she did. Every night as her eyelids fell, she was pack in that arena, lying in searing pain atop blisteringly chilly metal, watching helplessly as her own blood mingled and combined with that of the other tributes. With Cato's. With Fox's.

The only friends she ever had were dead. They had left her behind to rot in this miserable world. No amount of the Capitol's artificial luster could hide her from her memories. Nothing could conceal the truth. She was alive, yes, but alone. A monster. A fraud.

At least her pathetic method of winning ensured that the Capitol steered clear of her, for the most part. They couldn't exactly kill her- viewers of the Games were a little disgruntled at the anticlimactic conclusion, and betting folk everywhere had their heads in their hands as soon as the victory was announced, but Clove became little more than a laughing stock. She was left alone to live out her life in the Victor's Village.

She mostly stayed in her room. A knock on her door would sometimes yield a vicious "piss off", but mostly it yielded silence. Not even little Sage could get through to her big sister. Sweet, innocent little Sage, who had already been carted off to basic training, who was already throwing knives at dummies and learning the most efficient way to snap a human spine.

When the Victory Tour rolled around, it was all Clove could do to prevent herself from spitting at every last one of the Capitol's advances. Even her mentor, escort and stylist were barely able to lay a hand on her. People quickly learned to keep Clove away from anything sharp.

First 12, then 11. 10, 9 8. Seven, Six….. Five. She barely survived her visit to Five. It was exactly as Fox had described it- all towers and concrete, smokestacks and sewers. When the sun set, it punctured the smoke, causing it to billow the colour of blood.

Worst of all was the Victory speech. She read from the cards that were given to her, never looking anyone in the face. When she had to glance up, she glanced to the skyline, before realizing that the crimson twilight was just as bad as any eye to meet, and lowering her gaze again.

By the end of the speech, Clove was desperate for reprieve. Enobaria stood closely behind her, making sure she didn't have a panic attack while in front of people- it was embarrassing enough in private company, let alone a crowd of strangers. In Enobaria's eyes, Clove had devolved from a noble Victor to an apathetic puppy. She was useless now, but Enobaria needed to see her through, at least until the next Games. She jabbed gently into Clove's ribs with her razor nails.

"At least look at the families, y'know. Try to show a bit of empathy. Makes 'em forget all the farce for a little while."

Clove unwillingly looked up. She saw a familiar set of amber eyes boring into her own.

_Those are Fox's eyes._

Or rather, they were the eyes of the fallen tribute's younger sister. The resemblance was uncanny, too poignant for Clove to even think of continuing.

Enobaria sensed her struggle and seized the microphone from the mayor.

"Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever. Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, have a nice day." She threw the microphone back at the stunned mayor before seizing a near catatonic Clove by the arm and pulling her out of sight of the masses.

Enobaria was never one for empathy, but seeing Clove like this caused a twinge in her gut every time it happened. Never had she seen those eyes so blank, yet so full of panic. Without another word, Enobaria ushered Clove into the train and softly closed her compartment door. She needed a drink.

The months passed, and the winter snow melted away as the tension grew in District 2. Reaping Day was fast approaching, and there was frequent debate about who would volunteer. It was a Quarter Quell, too, and those were always wildly unpredictable. The announcement of the 75th anniversary twist was mandatory viewing all around Panem. When that day came, Clove hauled herself out of her room and joined her family in the living room, along with Enobaria, Brutus and some of the other victors. Sage sat herself down beside Clove and pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning over onto Clove's shoulder.

"It's good to see you, sis."

For the first time in month, Clove allowed herself to smile.

The Capitol anthem started blaring from the television, and Caesar Flickerman charismatically strode his way into view. He was undeniably exciting to watch, turning an impossibly morbid topic into something passionately thrilling.

After Caesar's jokes and intro material, President Snow was introduced in all his terrifying glory. In his gloved hand he delicately held a golden envelope, emblazoned with the number 75. When the roar of the crowd had finally died, he slid open the seal and pulled out the card with an elegant flourish.

"As a reminder to the districts of the consequences of striking out alone against the Capitol, there will be no volunteering for this year's Hunger Games. Additionally, no sponsorship will be available during the Games."

The entire room groaned. District 2 depended on their strongest volunteering, as well as external sponsorship.

The chatter burst out immediately. Brutus and Enobaria were already bickering about their prize picks for volunteers being chosen. Clove, on the other hand, was silent.

She would have to mentor one of these kids. She would have to teach them to do what she did- or rather, didn't do. She would have to watch it all happen again, to be a part of the monstrous charade again, and again, and again.

She wasn't sure she could retain what scraps of her sanity were left to her.

When Reaping Day came, Clove wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to board the train again, to see the Capitol's too-bright lights and wear their too-convoluted clothing. She could barely even stand the rich food, preferring to snack on bread alone in her compartment rather than eat with her team.

When the ceremony started, she was ushered on stage with the other former victors. Seeing the faces of those children, ranging from the confident smirk of the older ones to the downcast, still gazes of the younger… it was enough to make Clove's stomach turn.

Her old escort came strutting out in an angular silver frock, the eagerness in her eyes sickeningly obvious. After the obligatory Capitol video, she sauntered over to the enormous glass bowl filled with the names of the District 2 girls. She plunged her hand into the bowl, shuffling about for a painstakingly long period of time, before pulling out a lone slip of paper. The escort carefully unfolded the slip, her excitement unmistakable as she registered the name printed upon it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your female tribute for the Third Quarter Quell…..

"…Sage Peridot!"

It was Sage who found Clove hanging lifeless from the ceiling of her compartment by her bed sheet. It was Sage who screamed desperately down the train for someone, _anyone _to help.

It was Sage who placed the pebbles on her sister's makeshift headstone in the abandoned lot on the edge of District 2, just out of the Capitol's grasp.

From that moment, Sage, who only a few years ago had wept furiously at the death of an innocent man in the square of District 2, knew the Capitol had it out of her.

But Sage knew better than to submit to that. She had to know better- for her sister, for Cato, for that girl from District 5….

Little Sage was not going down without a fight.


End file.
